


A New Palace

by Varthan



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varthan/pseuds/Varthan
Summary: Hiding behind masks has become an effortless task for Akira Kurusu, the versatility to become whatever person a situation requires has been a quality that his companions have long admired ever since he came to Tokyo. As leader of the Phantom Thieves, he's had to shoulder the responsibility that is the power of the Wildcard while hiding the burden it placed on him from those closest to him. When an unexpected obstacle on their path to redeeming the Phantom Thief name demands a power that is beyond him, will Akira be able to hide the cracks in his armor while still protecting his loved ones, or will he sacrifice the things he holds dear to stop the ruin that threatens them all?





	1. Those Who Rule Over Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Akira Kurusu begins to recount the tale of the month leading up to his capture.

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**November 20th. Time Unknown**

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**Kasumigaseki Precinct Interrogation Room**

A paralyzing warmth began to spread through Akira's skull, and he realized it'd been far too long since he'd slept properly. The palm of his hand seemed unnaturally soft suddenly as he rested his cheek against it. Caught up in those sensations, he found his eyelids growing heavy, quickly sinking into the delightful sensations of sleep, hopefully he didn't have that dream again.

"NO!" Sae's voice warped the blissful warmth into a splitting pain, his pillowy hand once again solid, cradling his aching head. "I'm too close to the end of this! You don't get to sleep until we're finished here!"

Akira made a concerted effort to keep from sighing. Sae was just...her sister. Same eyes, same cutting glare, same overzealous outbursts when something caught her interest. "Look Miss Niijima, I get it, you're like me, you hear 'the room's totally soundproof,' and you take it as a challenge. However it's _just_ me in here, you don't need to yell, the only thing you're doing is making yourself go red in the face." Same _exact_ sneer when she took his teasing as a serious insult. "Right, so we were up to October 28th, right? Well if you _must_ know, I made my curry that day with apples. Did you know that despite its spicy profile, adding apples to curry prov-"

Sae's open palm slammed into the interrogation room table with all the fury of a thunderclap, those Niijima eyes seeming a shade closer to blood red now as she bared down on him. "DON'T YOU-" Taking a deep breath as she caught herself proving him right, and squeezing her eyes shut as she caught that sly grin of his as he noticed it too. Collecting herself, she continued at an inside volume, "don't test me Kurusu. Now, let's discuss your next target."

Laying his hands flat on the table before him, Akira schooled his expression to grim seriousness, eyes locked squarely on the prosecutor's. Being the guarded woman that she was, it was doubtful she'd keep it in her case notes where it might slip out, he fully expected her to reach into her suit breast pocket to produce her calling card, the moment he'd been mentally preparing himself for. She spun her folder to face him, surprising him with how nonchalant she was about this kind of an attack. Then she flipped over Okumura's file, and stopped his heart.

"Shit," he blurted out without thinking, fists clenching as he kicked himself.

"Ose Sugawa. Now, care to explain that reaction?"

 _No_ , he thought, a defeated sigh passing through him as Sae leaned forwards, eager to see how deep the sudden crack in his collected demeanor lead her. "I remember the important details of this case very specifically," he told her, "seeing as we're short on time, can I give you the abridged version of this one?" He wasn't lying, though for once he wished he was. Of the entire time he'd been in Tokyo, this last month was the one he'd hoped the drugs in his system would wipe away.

"Absolutely not," she responded simply, gutting him. "Up to now I've allowed you to drone on over every asinine detail to help yourself recall the events that transpired, given the effects of the serum they injected you with. Because of that, you've managed to give me a cohesive, though nonsensical, account of the Phantom Thieves' activities. The fact that you _do_ remember this, and want to hide it from me, means I'm going to get _everything_ , or I throw you to the wolves."

Damn. He couldn't afford to start losing her now, he _needed_ her, so she had him by the little personas now. "Point taken," he slumped, not even bothering to negotiate, he needed to tell her, and the sooner he did, the better the chances that she'd trust him. Besides, courage delayed was just cowardice. "What do you need to know?"

Relaxing in her seat, Sae allowed herself to smile, a smug look that Akira knew he sported often, and realized then why people hated him when he did. She had power over him now and she knew it. She didn't even know that her trust was important, she still figured that he was bargaining to lighten his sentence. She just saw him abandon his, to that point, ironclad principles at the first sign of danger, and it delighted her. Her smile came so instantly, so genuinely, that Akira knew that this was something she regularly enjoyed in her interrogations, the feeling of holding power over somebody. _I feel like I understand you a little better now, Miss Niijima._

Just as quickly as it had sprung up, Sae buried the sign of pleasure, her lips drawn tight as she adopted a more intense look of thought. She was stumped, as well she should be, nothing about Sugawa lined up with their previous cases. And there was her sister again, trying to maintain that threatening gaze while the fire in her eyes had dimmed, her attention clearly elsewhere as she tried to juggle half a dozen conversations and conjectures in her own head without making so much as a peep. He couldn't help but feel like he'd made these comparisons to Makoto before, but his memory was still too hazy to properly recall. Smiling to himself, and moving before his brain could process how dumb a move this was, he leaned across the table and flicked the prosecutor in the forehead. She blinked, too surprised to even be angry, the same reaction Makoto always had. "You don't need to stop to think about this so much, you have the man with your answers right in front of you."

"You're right," She breathed, "you have a peculiar way of getting people's attention, Kurusu."

"I figured it'd do the trick, it's what I always do to Mako-" Akira bit his lip hard enough to taste iron as he caught the hellish glare Sae was shooting his way, she still wasn't fond of the idea that her sister was his teammate. "-Maaah close friends, of course. And after all this time we've spent together Miss Niijima, I like to think that we've developed the sort of bond that transcends that of the condemned and his law officer, wouldn't you agree?"

She did not, if her utterly unamused sigh was anything to go by. "I need to understand the motivation behind this particular case, after all neither you nor your associates had any connection to Sugawa until he approached you. It would make sense if you had targeted him to protect yourself and your guardian, however one important detail precludes this possibility, you went after him first. You were moving on Sugawa and his organization within the first week of the month, short of you possessing prescience, I can't find anything to explain your preemptive strike."

Akira smiled sadly, any satisfaction he might've gotten from confusing the woman mitigated by thoughts of the month he'd had. "I _have _told you that we enlisted the services of a psychic, I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss the idea that we could see the future." Seeing the completely serious expression Sae was sporting, he sighed, abandoning the joke. "I wouldn't think too hard about it Miss Niijima, our reasoning is most likely the very first thing you thought of, but dismissed it for being an unprofessional assumption. We were taunting you. If you think that that's unbelievably reckless given the attention on us at the time, as well as incredibly juvenile considering the scope of our actions, then you'd be right on both accounts. However, bringing Sugawa down was a necessary step in the grand scheme of things."__

____

____

Sae's eyes briefly flickered down, had he guessed wrong? Was the card in her pants pocket? Her head snapped back up, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "'in the grand scheme of things'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should probably pull out your calling card, Sae, your last two cases didn't happen one after the other, they happened simultaneously." Sae took a sharp breath, though she was careful not to let her face betray any additional shock over the revelation. How cute, she'd wanted to give it a dramatic reveal, a woman after his own heart. Reaching into her suit jacket breast pocket, prompting Akira to mentally high five himself for a successful guess, the prosecutor slid the calling card onto her case notes. "Without a doubt, Miss Niijima, you've been our most unusual target, though certainly nothing beyond our abilities, at least not at first. Our problems really kicked off with you on November 2nd, we were attending a trial of yours that-"

Sae held up a hand for him to stop, pinching the bridge of her nose as she struggled with something. Akira wisely decided to remain silent until she addressed him with a heavy sigh. "I remember, it's not everyday a platoon of high schoolers decide to observe me. To think I believed at the time that Makoto had simply dragged you all along with her while she came to see me, when in fact she'd brought the Phantom Thieves right to my doorstep." Sae paused a moment, her hands tightening as if the mere mention of her sister was putting her on edge.

Then she was all business again, her eyes determined and confident. "Now seems an appropriate time to address this," opening the manila folder on Sugawa, Sae produced a number of photographs, fanning them out over the open table. Akira didn't even have time to properly examine them before Sae began speaking again. "In addition to your actions in this...Metaverse, you've been exceptionally active in the real world as well, accruing several additional charges of various crimes to add to the already extensive list being levied against you. Additionally, over the past month, your mental state has reportedly shown a marked change, leading you to seek harm upon both yourself, and those closest to you. As of this moment, these are only accusations, should we investigate further, that will change. I want an explanation, Kurusu, in your own words, even I don't know the validity of these charges, so we won't skip ahead several days to the trial, I want this story from the beginning."

Akira grimaced, clutching his head in both hands as he sucked in a deep breath. "From the beginning eh? Well Sae, I was born at an _incredibly_ young age-"

"I do _not_ , have the patience for more of your idiotic jokes," she growled, her nails raking over the steel tabletop as her hands balled to fists.

"Fine, fine. Your reports are true, and since you're apparently going to be questioning my mental integrity now Sae, I know just where to start. I'll spare you the 29th, our entire day was scouting your palace, and spoilers, we _do_ return to it later in the week, so you're not missing anything. It's been hell this past month, Sae, and for all intents and purposes it started on October 30th, when I made the mistake of completing part of my rehab."

**October 30th. 9:31 PM**

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**Shibuya Central Street**

A heavy, relentless rain pelted the busy streets of Shibuya, the water sinking into depressions in the well-worn roads, creating a thousand rippling puddles to reflect the blazing neon that split the evening shade. Akira Kurusu, taking note of the hunched backs and squinted eyes of passerby in flux around him, was once more thankful for the protective screen of his thick glasses as he was merely treated to the delightful view. He allowed himself once again to take in the city around him, so unlike the tranquil countryside and so... _alive_. Such a busy daytime here, and night saw nearly every street much like this one, bathed in the spectrum of red and gold hues promising any service a soul could desire.

 _And of course, the one of velvet, of which he couldn't desire less_.

The sobering thought snapped Akira away from his sightseeing. Coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the street, he allowed several people to roughly shoulder past him, ignoring their accusatory glares as he regarded the puddle at his feet, glowing that ghostly blue, as if it had personally betrayed him. He stood now at the mouth of his least favorite alley in the city, and a mere cursory glance was all he needed to confirm what awaited him; Caroline, the Inquisitor as he called her, was there.

Absent from her usual perch atop the Velvet Room's door, the Warden instead stood at attention directly in front of the iron bars, a mask of grim contemplation replacing her sadistic smirk. The cold, almost spectral green neon of _Untouchable_ casting a harsh spotlight on her slight frame, throwing her single, golden eye into sharp relief.

Akira wasn't looking to thicken the already humid autumnal air with tension, and so set off towards her at a brisk pace. Yet despite his best intentions, he found that the distance seemed to only grow as he moved, the trek of mere seconds stretching into what felt like entire minutes as the city around him seemed to eke to a halt. The pounding of rain and steady footfalls, the hum of neon and the dull rumble of Tokyo's ever present subways, all seemed to dim, buried beneath the pounding of his heart, which now rang in his ears. He noticed then that the glow of the Velvet Room's door cast a shadow over the Warden that extended all the way to his feet, her actual minuscule height doing little to assuage his fears as he glimpsed the veritable giant that was her shadow.

Trying to combat the lump in his throat, he spoke first. "Caroline." The girl blinked in surprise, as if stirring from a daze. As her eye locked with his she quickly smothered the weakness with a maniacal grin.

"Inmate!" She greeted, a bit too enthused for Akira's liking. "It's impolite to keep our master waiti-" She stopped suddenly, seeming to look _through_ him, her face once more a grim mask of resolution. "So Inmate," Akira shuddered, as the Warden spoke, he felt a sudden splitting ache in his skull. "I see you've brought for us the results of your penal labor," keening to the chilling words of the Warden, Seth broke free of the prison Akira had built for him in the depths of his mind, effortlessly overwhelming the weakened presence of Arsene that Akira always held close.

Reclaiming his dominion over the foolish mortal that dared to bear his mask, Seth glared at the girl before him, snarling at the defiant smirk she offered him, but reigning himself in as he sensed the power she possessed, easily dwarfing his own in this weak body. He felt a strong sense of terror from his host at the child, he lacked courage and discipline to face that which frightened him, and still he refused the gifts that Seth could give him. Seth felt his disdain for the human boy grow further, it was high time that he take the helm for good. With a mere thought he forced the boy back to the depths of his own mind, to that ramshackle prison he'd made in an attempt to bind a _god_ to his will. Seth looked once more to the girl, and as he felt the rich freedom of his mind being clear now of obstacles, he laughed, a deep, rough sound that revealed his sinister intent. Pulling an arm back, he willed the almighty light of that wretch Horus to his palm, he'd bring this kit to her knees!

...

Caroline observed the inmate as Seth overtook him, saw the brute rage that coursed through him, the hate the persona expressed over being bound tickled her. Yet when he took a step back, raising his arms as if to use his power there in reality, she decided to make it known how powerless Seth really was. Raising her baton overhead, prepared to punish the foolish deity, she cackled. Then stopped herself. She watched how his jaw clenched, his open palm balled into a fist, and finally that azure flame spark through those vacant eyes, and her inmate was himself once more. She smirked, angling her hips and offering the once more lucid boy her piercing glare.

"Well done Inmate, that persona was designed to test your control over your arsenal. I'll admit, I thought that it would be a bit too much for you."

"Th...thanks!" He replied, a bit too forceful as he tried without success to appear more in control than he was. Caroline smirked, he never ceased to amuse or amaze, this Trickster of theirs. With a quick crack of her baton against the bars of the Velvet Room, she ushered her charge inside, making sure to deliver a sharp kick from behind to move him along.

...

As Akira tumbled into the depths of the Velvet Room, he pondered the glimpse he'd gotten into the mind of Seth. Both powerful and enigmatic, the god of storms and chaos possessed staggering confidence, allowing not even Caroline, whom he recognized as stronger, to give him pause.

**And all my strength can be yours, if you'd only don my mask child.**

Feeling the amorphous mass of Seth's will whispering to him, seeking once more to manifest itself, Akira clenched his teeth in a surge of effort and forced the persona back into his prison. He summoned Arsene once more, settling at last as his faculties returned; he was in the Velvet Room, his own spirit of rebellion filling him again, his own mind in control.

"Ah, at last you return to us Trickster," the deep, rolling timbre of Igor's voice instantly set Akira on edge. He was never altogether trusting of the strange man, between the company he kept of his Wardens, and the nigh perverse pleasure he seemed to derive from Akira's suffering. "But I know you didn't come before us seeking my counsel, that pleasure is reserved for another time. Girls!"

As prompted, the Twin Wardens appeared at their place in front of Akira's cell, grinning down at him as he sat before them. Yet this was fundamentally different to all their previous encounters, these weren't expressions of twisted glee at his behest, there was a glimmer of real pleasure in their eyes. Caroline was the first to break the silence.

"To think, this same boy and his worthless personas actually managed this," cocking her hips and jabbing a finger at Akira, she spoke, her grin never leaving her lips, "I guess I can compliment you this once Inmate!"

"You know, you've far exceeded our expectations of you Inmate," Justine affirmed. "And though it may be ill fitting to say this as Wardens, we are immensely impressed with you." Then with a wry smile, she added, "I wouldn't allow Caroline's frigid nature to fool you Inmate, she's been eagerly pacing about waiting for your return since you called forth Seth, seems she's quite invested in you."

"WHAT!? LIES!" Caroline declared, incredulous, going so far in her anger as to strike her baton across the bars of Akira's cell, causing him to jump in fright, but her malice was aimed squarely at her twin it seemed, whose only response was a faint, knowing twinkle in her eye. Glancing between the two, Akira noticed that Caroline's cheeks were indeed flush, embarrassed in her denial, and he immediately felt some of his fear of the strange girl dissipate. Perhaps….Perhaps these girls truly were invested in his growth, perhaps they really did care for him, though it hardly helped to assuage his fear of the tasks they assigned, the acts they asked him to commit…

"Hehe," Igor's low chuckle pierced the din, instantly commanding the room's attention as he changed his crossed legs. "It seems, dear Trickster, that your Wardens too, are quite taken with you," both the girls blushed at the remark, but maintained their composure in the face of their master. "An intriguing development to be sure, but you are to become _far_ more interesting in the coming weeks. You've done well to complete your assignments here, but this is hardly the winter of your life as the Trickster, no, now is merely the spring, for now it is time for your powers to _truly_ bloom. Girls! The reward." The Twin Wardens both turned halfway towards Akira, giving him a haunting side profile of both their golden eyes that made him burrow his chin a bit deeper into the cleft of his knees.

"Inmate, as your reward, we have convened with our master, and convinced him to grant you a special privilege."

"That you may fuse personas that are beyond your power. Your success in binding Seth to you has displayed for us that it is within your ability to tame such beings."

"Hehe," again Igor's chuckle demanded their attention, and something in that deep rumble told Akira that the man had no such faith in his abilities. "Of course, the binding of these personas bears...a price," Akira shuddered at the eerie sense of glee that practically dripped off Igor's tongue as he said this, those bloodshot eyes of his no doubt envisioning some twisted pain for the inmate. "Girls, debrief him on the extent of his newfound power." With that command, the strange man vanished in a blink of shadow, leaving Akira alone with the Wardens, who turned to face him fully now, their arms crossed as their heavy gaze fell upon him.

"So, Inmate, fairly self explanatory," Caroline began, "you need only picture the new persona in your mind's eye, and should it's power exceed your own, well then…" She trailed off then, her brow suddenly creased with a strange look of discontent.

"You must pay the price for that disparity," Justine finished smoothly, eyeing her twin knowingly, "in yen, of course, no small sums either." Justine regarded Akira coldly, ignoring her Twin's discomfort. "Any questions, Inmate?"

After a moment's deliberation of the odd role reversal the girls' had undergone, he merely shook his head.

The girls exchanged a look, both nodding to some unspoken question between them, then both looked at Akira, both releasing a pent up breath, relaxing and allowing those coy smiles of theirs that Akira was taking a liking to to return. Then, the impossible, a slight giggle!

"Well then, now that we've finished all that Master's asked of us…" Caroline remarked with that grin of hers.

"We can get on with the next task we shall be assigning you." Akira gulped, heart racing as he considered the pain of having to create yet more personas. Paging through her clipboard, Justine smiled softly, "there is nothing, you've fulfilled every duty available to you." Akira allowed himself to laugh as he realized that Justine, the ever stiff and formal twin, had just cracked a _joke_ at him. What was with these girls that when their master wasn't around they became almost...normal? Shaking his head as he decided to consider this another time, he turned his attention back to Justine, who was still speaking. "Therefore, as the ones who rule over power, our role is…." Justine stopped, silently mouthing those words again as Akira and Caroline watched her worriedly. "Why did I say that?" She asked herself, a manic tone in her voice now, before she abruptly doubled over, clutching at her head.

Without thinking, Akira shot to his feet, looping his arms between the bars of his cell to catch the Warden as she stumbled. "Are you okay!?" He asked, handling her as if she were made of porcelain as she steadied herself.

_Crack!_

Caroline's baton cracked across his fingers, shattering his grip on Justine and forcing him to stumble back into his cell, his breathing ragged as he fought back the cry that arose at the blinding pain. The Inquisitor merely regarded him with a hostile glare before slumping down on her knees to comfort Justine.

"I-It is nothing...just...my head," Justine groaned, still holding her head in her hands. "Ugh...these memories…" Her eye began moving frantically, darting between Caroline, her clipboard, Akira, and then finally to the desk where their master previously sat. She placed her head against Caroline's shoulder, dejected. "Just...what _are_ we?"

"Are you okay?" Akira asked again, ignoring the pain in his hand, and the fact that he couldn't even bend his fingers. Caroline shot him another glare that spelled his death quite plainly; he immediately clammed up, simply observing the scene before him.

"Don't worry," Caroline consoled her, running the back of her hand against Justine's cheek. "This has happened to me too." Akira was taken aback by the tenderness in her manner, the readily apparent closeness in the girls' bond.

Panting heavily, Justine rose slowly to her feet with the assistance of her twin. "My appologies," she spoke out loud, addressing both her spectators. Giving Justine's shoulder another comforting squeeze, Caroline whipped around, her baton crashing against the bars of Akira's cell, forcing him to bite his tongue to keep his teeth from chattering for fear of the look his Warden was leveling at him.

"You've upset her now, Inmate," Caroline began, the hand gripping her baton quivering with barely suppressed anger, "you can't just keep that worthless mouth of your shut for five minutes! I'm gonna-"

"Don't shift the blame onto him, Caroline," the warden pulled back her baton as she faced her twin's admonishment, cheeks flush with shame now. The Inquisitor folded her arms, her limbs unusually animated as she tried without success to burn through the furious energy that had just coursed through her; her fingers drumming against her arms, foot tapping a mad rhythm that rang through the now empty prison. All was quiet between them as the air was filled only with the heavy breathing of the still angered Caroline, her eye never so much as blinking as she stared down Akira, obviously quite hard pressed to relent in matters of her twin's well being. "Caroline," Justine warned.

Caroline sighed, defeated. "Fine. You know, time and again I find you're more trouble than you're worth Inmate." Despite her harsh words, a soft smile cracked Caroline's dour expression, "but I guess I can grant you that with everything you've gone through. Heh, we're really going soft, aren't we?"

Contented that Caroline had been calmed, Justine gave Akira a conspiratory wink, then, with a wry grin, added, "Indeed, though it's no great mystery why." Caroline cocked an eyebrow at this, at which Justine snickered. "You're trying, and _failing_ I might add, to conceal how much his concern pleases you."

"Again with this?" Caroline grit her teeth, standing rigid as she stared down Justine, who refused to back down with that smug grin of hers. When she turned her gaze to Akira, and realized she was blushing again for the umpteenth time that day, she growled, tugging her hat down so that its brim covered her eye. "You can talk you know!" Akira jumped a bit as he realized she was addressing him, turning to look up at Justine, who nodded in affirmation, he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry if what I'm doing is somehow bringing up painful memories, for you. For both of you." Justine's smile widened at the declaration, glancing over at Caroline, who now seemed to be burrowing into herself, she realized she'd have to carry the conversation now.

"Well Inmate, while you are without a doubt a problem child, both for us and your own world as well, you've done untold amounts of good for both as well. Color us impressed Inmate, I believe you truly do have what it takes to stop the ruin."

Akira felt warmth bloom in his cheeks from the praise he was being heaped with. Scratching his head, he responded with a sheepish, "leave it to me!" He caught a glimpse of Caroline's lambent, yellow eye as she peeked up at him, then promptly burrowed her head into her chest, making a peculiar sound that had Justine cackling like a hyena.

"I do believe you've broken her Inma-"

"Enough!" Caroline shouted, her anger back with a vengeance. "Return to your world of waking dreams!"

Akira cocked his head, "wha-"

"OUT!"

All Akira remembered seeing was a bright azure flame burning in the pit of Caroline's eye before he was suddenly tumbling back through the peculiar mindscape between his world and the Velvet Room. He returned to himself with a start, taking a moment to collect his bearings. He was in the _Untouchable_ alleyway, yet oddly the Velvet Room door was now absent. Despite the trepidation he'd entered with, Akira found himself chuckling at the sisterly quarreling he'd witnessed, no doubt the Twins had to work something out between the two of them, so perhaps it was for the best he left for the day. Stretching his arms as he finally stood after what felt like an eternity, he made a quick mental check that Seth was secure in his prison, Arsene at the forefront, and the rest of his personas on standby.

Satisfied, he pulled his phone from his pocket. Seeing the time, he beat a hasty retreat from the alley, he'd need to make it to the station quickly, the final train to Yongen-Jaya was departing soon, and he'd have a hard enough time explaining to Morgana how he took a two and a half hour night time walk just to clear his head. On the bright side, tomorrow was sunday, and he had plans to hang out with some of the Phantoms tomorrow, and it'd be for the best that he didn't show up exhausted.

Stopping one more time at the mouth of the alley, he cast one last glance back to where the prison door normally stood, and said a silent prayer to whoever may be listening that he wouldn't have to return there anytime soon, for no doubt this would be as pleasant as things ever got. With that out of the way, Akira took a deep breath, and rejoined the surging tide of bodies making their way through Shibuya.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone, this is my first time posting anything on this site, so I apologize if the formatting is a bit wonky, the inability to make text bold or italicized in an actually [i] intuitive [/i] manner is throwing me off enough that my spellchecking might not be as thorough as I'd like.
> 
> This story is something that I've been working on for quite awhile now, since my brother and I beat the game a few months ago and I expressed that, while I thought the game was incredible, that there were a lot of problems with it, to name the ones I'm actually trying to address, how rarely the game actually acknowledges your relationships, as well as several problems I had specifically with Sae's Palace. My brother told me that if I didn't like it I should try to write something myself that tries to juggle all the elements that Persona does while still being any good, and surprisingly I actually worked up the motivation to do it. What was originally meant to be an intro that lasted a couple pages to get to the actual point of this story, has since turned into an 80000+ word behemoth on my desktop, that I was honestly never planning to post, but at the urging of my brother, who says he's never seen me enjoy writing something as much as I have this story, I'm putting it up.
> 
> One of the things I fell in love with in Persona 5 was all the little details that the game is absolutely riddled with, from the way each menu page features a different Joker pose, to NPC conversations following certain Mementos targets, or how Akira's idle animations change with your proficiency level, because having those kinds of insignificant details in anything to me shows a lot of love on the creator's part, which always makes things better. So in writing this, I tried to fill it with as many of those kinds of details as I could, to give it as distinct a character as the game it's celebrating. It's very different from anything else that I usually write, so I'd very much appreciate any time you can take to leave feedback for me, but even if you don't, thank you so much for at least giving this a read.


	2. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Akira tries to help Ann be a better model by being both a dork and a bit of a show off.

 

**October 31st. 2:20 PM**

**‘Vague’ Magazine Studio**

Ever mindful of the ceaseless ticking of the clock in her changing room, leisurely counting away the final moments of her modeling career, Ann found herself pacing. She ran a hand through her golden hair; gathered now in an imperious bun, a number of shimmering locks falling over her temples and down her front. Her body had been stuffed rather ungraciously into a sparkling green gown with an elaborate, lacy skirt of a slightly darker hue. Her hands, up to her elbows were clad in a set of satiny emerald gloves. Her feet were arched at a ludicrous angle by the obnoxiously high heels they’d thrust upon her. Her gloved fingers lazily traced the earrings they’d given, the only component of the outfit she genuinely liked; they were sets of tiny lucky emerald clovers, much like the symbol on her favorite jacket, and both thinly outlined with gold. 

Anxiously drumming her fingers against her thigh, for she’d discovered the heels made tapping her feet an impossible affair, she kept glancing between her phone and the back door of her dressing room. What was keeping him?

 

**Me:** Hey Akira? I know this is kinda sudden, but I need you to come help me.. 

 

**Loverboy:** What’s up Ann? 

 

**Me:** I really need you with me right now, I’m at the shoot I was telling you about. 

 

**Me:** Please come quick. 

 

She’d of course only sent for him mere minutes ago, but already she was wracked with worry. Knowing Akira, he’d probably seen her desperate plea for assistance and immediately taken off, forgetting to even confirm he’d gotten the request. And while he’d yet to ever disappoint, she was still worried, in a peculiar state of limbo between him receiving the message and arriving to help. 

Sitting herself down at her makeup counter, she met her reflection’s gaze and scowled. She couldn’t help but regard the dress as so very  _ alien _ . After all, she’d seen images of the women she was emulating; stunning, regal beauties who wore their dresses like a liquid skin, who looked like they could level nations with their eyes. She was more the smoky-eyed sweetheart, she couldn’t pull off the look of a detached prude, and she couldn’t help but feel like she couldn’t look more misplaced in this outfit. 

Her agent had told her that this was her last chance for redemption, that after the incident with Mika, everyone on the crew was more than pissed with her. Naturally, she’d be going toe-to-toe with the cutthroat devil herself, it was Mika’s idea after all, wanting to ‘make amends’ with a little friendly competition, and Ann had no doubt that Mika was made for this role. Her anxiety reached a fever pitch as the gravity of failure finally dawned on her; all the dreams she’d built to, of becoming an idol to encourage the world, snuffed out in an instant if she lost this. Her breathing went ragged, and she quickly realized that the corset had crushed her chest down, managing only half a lungful with each heave, each of which came hot and painful. Throwing a hand out to her table to steady herself, she suddenly felt a wave of fatigue pass through her, feeling liable to faint any second. Furthermore, the flush of heat in her face told her she was mere seconds from bursting into tears. 

She felt the tears begin as the room’s main door swung open, not the back door. Which meant her time was up. She was going to have to face this alone, and as a sobbing mess to boot, she could already  _ feel  _ the mascara they’d put on her running down her cheeks, she probably looked like a clown. Her agent, god, what was she going to say to Ann for this? 

“Tah-kuh-mack-ee?” Geez, how did these people manage to get her name so wrong? The only person who’d ever messed it up that hard was…

“Akira!” Shooting to her feet, she all but leapt on him as he entered, planting her heels on the door and slamming it shut behind him. She buried her face into his chest to muffle the last few sobs that gripped her and managed to squeeze past her defenses. “H..h..how.” He cut her off from her stuttering, cupping her face in his hands and simply smiling, not saying a word as his thumbs gently wiped away the tears that broke through. Glowing from the warmth of his hands, she tried again, “how did you get in here through the main door? Only my agent has the key to this room.” 

“Well, she still does,” he answered, grinning wickedly. With a very ‘Joker’ flourish, Akira flicked his wrist and a lockpick slid from within his blazer sleeve into his hands. 

“You mean you broke in!?” Ann asked, incredulous. Akira affixed her with an almost chastising expression, folding his arms in the process. 

“Ann, I build these, and use them to take treasure from people, treasure that is locked behind, quite literally, the kind of locks they could only dream of. That,” he craned his neck to indicate the door, “is child’s play.” 

“But you BROKE, IN! A building full of scantily clad women, security here doesn’t exactly take kindly to people who just, let themselves in!” Akira frowned, turning away from Ann, and, with exaggerated effort, flipped the lock. 

“Oh my god! It’s like I was never here,” he teased, taking cover behind a dress rack, allowing his voice to die down to a mere whisper, “how does he do it? How can one man be so handsome and such a genius at the same time?” Ann shook her head, smiling at Akira’s goofy antics, perhaps she  _ was _ being too uptight. Moving over to the dress rack, she parted the sea of fabric to get at him, but found the space behind empty. 

“Eep!” She squeaked as a pair of arms snaked around her torso from behind. 

“And so talented as well,” Akira continued, nuzzling into Ann’s neck, smiling against her warm skin as she giggled, relaxing in his arms. “It’s hard to believe that a girl would let someone like him out of her sight for more than a second.” 

“Mhm,” Ann purred, delighting in the feel of his breath against her neck. Craning her head back to look him in the eyes, she gave him a saucy grin, “It takes guts to know he’ll always come back at the end of the day.” Akira’s breathing hitched against her neck, and she felt his arms tighten around her waist. She giggled, “why, have I got the great Akira Kurusu all flustered?” When he failed to respond she beamed, so  _ this  _ was how it felt. Akira claimed that she was cute when she got flustered, but this was more than simple entertainment, this was another feeling entirely. Cracking that bedrock of confidence that Akira possessed made her feel... _ powerful _ . 

“So,” Akira finally spoke, pulling away from her, “what exactly did you need me for?” 

_ Oh right, she called him here.  _

“Uhm...moral support?” Cocking an eyebrow, Akira folded his arms, awaiting a more complete answer. Sighing to herself, she felt that onrush of confidence seeping out of her as she came back to herself, remembering exactly the situation she was in. “well, ya see, you remember Mika don’t you?” He nodded, his eyes seeming to bore into her, plucking the truth out of her. “Well, after that last incident when I called her out on being a…” 

“A manipulative bitch,” he offered, clearly remembering the event well. 

“That’s the one. Well after that, everybody here’s taken Mika’s side, they say they don’t need me anymore, especially if  _ I  _ am going to try to manipulate the competition, so this is supposed to be a...test, I guess. Me against her, see if I can redeem myself, but…” Ann trailed off, afraid she’d choke up if she tried finishing the rest. 

Akira  _ snorted.  _

“They say they don’t need you? Well I’ll tell ya right now Ann, they’re full of shit, but that’s not important right now. You have difficulty believing in yourself in that dress,” he stated flatly, it wasn’t a question, was she  _ that  _ obvious? He was silent for a moment, his eyes darting over her, finally taking a moment to examine her outfit with a critical eye. Ann gulped, nodding in affirmation and twirling as Akira motioned for her to turn, her hands going clammy as he failed to comment. She met his gaze, hands clasped together in a death grip as she awaited his verdict. “I can’t say you were wrong for doubting.” 

_ Ouch _ .

“Gee, what glowing praise Akira, what would I do without you?” 

“You’d get stuck modeling in this apparently,” he countered, not missing a beat as he motioned to the entire ensemble. Crossing her arms, Ann gave him a look that said, for his sake, to make his point quickly. “You’ve gotta understand Ann,  _ I  _ don’t think there’s anything to worry about, not five minutes ago you showed me that you’ve got exactly what it takes to work this look. All you’ve got to do, is draw on that grace and maturity that brings me back at the end of the day.” Unable to come up with a retort in the face of that devilish grin he was sporting, Ann felt herself blushing furiously, had she actually said that? Coming out of Akira’s mouth, it sounded appropriate, but from her’s? She couldn’t. 

Sensing her trepidation, Akira’s smile broadened, clapping his hands together. “Right, I think it’s time for an acting lesson!” 

Ann’s eyes widened, fingers curling into fists at her sides. “Wh..What!?” 

...

 

Ann’s reaction tickled Akira something awful, gods she was cute when she got flustered. He could already see the protests bubbling up in her throat, he chuckled, reclining against the wall beside the main door. 

“L..Look Akira, I know you mean well, and I’m not exactly sure what I was  _ expecting  _ you to do, but we don’t have time to-” 

Just then the door swung open, obscuring Akira’s view of the room, but he grinned to himself, just imagining Ann’s expression. “Taka-mach-ee?” 

“Close enough, I guess.” 

“Right, sorry. Uh, look, sorry about this hun, but setup’s gonna be awhile, some of the lighting equipment’s locked up, and the spare key we keep on site’s gone missing. We had to call in one of our guys on his day off since he’s got all the keys to this place, so it’ll be another half hour yet.” 

“Oh, uh...alright!” 

“Sorry, again, about this, you just sit tight. Oh, and just relax, you look uh...you look stunning, no need to talk yourself up for this, you’ll do fine.” Making a show of waving goodbye to the young man as the door closed, Akira produced the small key ring he’d pilfered on his way through the building, twirling it around his finger as he flashed Ann a coy grin. 

“My, what an intriguing twist of fate, terribly convenient for us though.” 

Ann’s expression shifted through a spectrum of emotions, surprise, joy, trepidation, before settling in an indignant sneer. “And you  _ picked _ the lock on my door, show off.” 

“Guilty as charged,” he laughed, bowing low. “Now, Lady Ann, where shall I begin with you?”

“Can I vote to just not do this at all?” 

“Of course you can,” he assured her, “but as you know, majority rules, and the leader’s vote counts double, so your plea is overruled.” 

“Boooo!” Ann protested, slapping at Akira’s arm, “that’s abuse of authority!” 

“My dear, I never claimed to be a beneficent ruler. NOW, let’s get a sample of the Takamaki brand regal belle.” 

“What!? Akira, I can’t! My makeup’s-” Cutting herself short, Ann shot over to her dressing table, getting a look at herself in the mirror, he wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been crying by the time he arrived, but it had been enough to leave a black spiderweb of mascara down her cheeks. “I can’t do anything looking like  _ this _ !” 

“I know, you look like the little girl from that one horror movie, when she comes out of the well. What was the name of it again? The Bracelet? Something like that.” 

“You’re not helping!” 

“BUT! That’s _exactly_ why we’re doing this now, we’re not changing a _thing_ about the Nightmare on Central Street look until we’re done here.” Holding up a hand to silence the protests he already saw burning through her, Akira reached out, lazily tracing a finger over one of the black trails on her cheek. “You focus too much on your appearance when you’re trying to act, it makes you too stiff, and really obvious as a result. So before we talk looks, first we need to get you mentally prepped. Now c’mon, give us the look you plan to give the camera.” 

“Do I have a choice?” Seeing Akira shake his head, she sighed, resigning herself. Ann stood up straight, angling her hips just so, one arm across her chest, holding her other arm at the elbow as she rested her cheek in that hand. Her eyes narrowed into a hard glare, fixing on Akira’s. It was a look he was positive he’d seen before when passing by fashion magazine stands, and it drew a frown out of him. Akira pulled out his phone, snapping a picture before he motioned for her to relax, turning the screen to show her. “I look terrible!” She despaired, one hand drumming a frantic beat against her arm as anxiety seized her. 

Akira shook his head, “forget your appearance for a second Ann, look at your eyes, tell me what’s wrong with this.” 

“Wrong with it? I dunno, I tried posing just like the models I was shown for-” 

“Exactly!” He cut in, “you’re following an example, and you’re getting it...from a purely mechanical point.” Seeing the look he was getting from her, he elaborated, “the kind of woman you’re trying to be here, she has  _ fire  _ in her eyes, there’s a grace to her stance, but she’s a bit... _ bored _ , too. That’s because she’s the most beautiful woman in the room and she  _ knows  _ it, she doesn’t need to think about her looks, her beauty is effortless, and self-evident. She stands like she does because she also knows that her time is valuable, and the peasant with a camera is wasting it. You’re going through the motions, but you’re not  _ feeling  _ any of that, you’re trying too hard to be Ann while looking like somebody else.” 

Ann blinked rapidly, obviously trying to process everything he’d just thrown at her. “W-wow Akira, I didn’t really get..well,  _ any  _ of that from the pictures I saw, that’s really impressive.” 

He smirked, “well, do you wanna be a passable model like them? Or do you wanna be the best?” 

She blushed at the intensity in his words. “Well, I think for now I’ll settle for passable, we don’t have that long after all.” 

“Crap, you’re right,” he muttered, checking his phone,  “the guy said thirty minutes, so that leaves us with about twenty.” Blowing out his cheeks, Akira played with a stray lock of his hair, twirling it in his fingers as his mind raced. 

“So uh, how do I, y’know, make myself into somebody else for this?” 

“Hmm,” Akira absently tapped a finger against his lips, adopting a pensive look, “how to explain this in a way you can immediately work with...oh!” He snapped his fingers, eyes flashing with inspiration, “think of your acting like Panther in the Metaverse. She’s still  _ you _ , of course, but when a shadow speaks, it’s to  _ her _ . She’s your mask, but it took time to adjust to that, you certainly weren’t as brutal as you are now when you first awakened to your persona. If I remember right, the outfit freaked you out, actually.” 

“That’s true, but what does any of that have to do with acting? And whaddya mean, ‘brutal’?” 

Akira grinned. “Ann, the sight of you with that whip sends shadows running anymore. To put that another way, you have made the darkness that resides in peoples’ very hearts afraid of you. In a word, that’s pretty brutal.” Ann stuck her tongue out at him. “And to bring this back to acting, it’s pretty much the same concept, you’re making a mask for yourself, just not a physical one. It’s all about getting into the proper mindset for whatever role you’re taking, and controlling your expressions and body language to match it.” 

“I thought appearances didn’t matter in the end,” she commented coyly, a small, though still worried smile brightening her face. 

“Oh shut it,” he sneered, “they’ll need to matter for those of us with only fifteen minutes. It’s a delicate balance, I’ll admit, having to control how you look and emote for people, but keeping yourself from _caring_ what they actually think of that look. But the whole point of managing appearances is to help you adapt the specific mindsets behind the mask you wear, so that in time they just become second nature. Eventually, your pose, just becomes your natural stance, that look you give, is just what your face settles into. Is any of this making sense?” 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s a lot to think about, but I might be able to remember it. There’s a bigger problem though.” Ann bit her lip, wringing her hands nervously, “I’m not just doing this for a bunch of cameramen, Mika’s going to be there, and I don’t think I can focus on all that you’re trying to teach me with her there. Akira, I’m not sure I can do this!” 

“Hmm,” Akira looked around the room, his eyes alighting upon the the racks of dresses, glancing between them and Ann. “Do you happen to know what dress Mika will be wearing?” 

“Huh? T-the grey one, with the single strap. Akira, I don’t think I can handle switching into another outfit and then back into this one.” 

“Not why I’m asking Ann, now I want you to sit down, and try to relax for a minute.” Making sure that she took her place in front of her dressing table, Akira wandered over to the line of dresses, examining them with a more critical eye. “So tell me Ann, what don’t you like about the outfit you’re in right now, is it the dress?” 

“Well yeah, I don’t really think green is my color. And it’s really tight. What’re you doing back there exac-” 

“Don’t look back here!” He snapped, “I want you to focus on your reflection, and answer me honestly, there’s a reason for all this. Now what about your hair, you normally keep it in those loose twintails, so the bun can’t exactly be comfortable for you.” 

“Well that’s true, I’ve got a bit too much hair to just tie up comfortably and….I hear  _ rustling _ ,” visibly struggling not to whirl around in her chair, Ann’s fingers started drumming against her legs again, “you probably shouldn’t touch anything in here Akira, I really don’t wanna get in any more trouble than I’m already in.” 

“Relax Ann, this is all for your sake. Keep your eyes forward. Now, how about your makeup? Because that one I can agree with you on, I’m not sure how good a marketing campaign you can get out of a front cover model that kills people seven days after they read the article if they don’t buy the outfit.” 

“Would you shut the hell up about The Circlet already! I get it, I’m a mess!” 

“The Circlet! That’s what the name of the movie was, thank you. I didn’t think you were into horror flicks, Ann.” 

Ann visibly shuddered from her seat, “Haru asked me to go see it with her, and now I’ll lose another night’s sleep thanks to you reminding me of it.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess I didn’t that that you saw it against your will.” 

“You can make it up to me by telling me what you’re  _ doing  _ back there you know. Seriously, you’re starting to freak me out.” 

“Just let your imagination run wild Ann. Trust me, you’ll still never guess what I’m doing. Now, back to the problem at hand, is there anything about your outfit that you  _ do  _ like?” 

“Well...I like the earrings! They’re really cute.” 

“Of course it’d be the least noticeable part,” he muttered to himself. “Alright, we’ll sort out appearances after, for now we need to lift spirits in this room, which meaaaansss,” he paused, tapping out a quick drum roll against his knees,  “that it’s time to turn around Ann.”

 

...

“....” 

“It’s okay, your silence speaks volumes. I’m not gonna say that I’m perfect, buuuuut~” 

“I...what...wh….” Ann stopped, taking a deep breath. “Akira, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Giving the good boys and girls of Tokyo what they never knew they wanted.” 

Akira had taken it upon himself to slip into the dress he’d asked her about, and now she would never look at him the same way. It was like a train wreck, she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. Though he had no curves or hips to speak of, the silver dress clung to him in a way that...didn’t look as terrible as it probably should have. His uniform was nowhere in sight, and she struggled not to let her mind consider the implications there. He’d taken off his glasses, and those silver eyes of his were oddly stunning given the outfit he’d decided to wear. Did he shave? Or was his skin just naturally that smooth? 

Ann slapped a hand over her face to hide how red she’d become as she realized just what she’d been thinking. “Dammit Akira, just….why!?” 

“I’m glad you asked Takamaki,” he declared, far more energetic than he had any right to be in this situation. “I’m showing you that you  _ are  _ the most beautiful person in the room. I hope I’m doing alright on that front though, I dunno, I think I’m  _ rocking  _ this look, so it’d make sense if you still felt a little intimidated. What’re your thoughts?” Angling his hips, Akira assumed a pose mirroring her earlier attempt, his eyes offering a surprisingly chilling glare. Even in that ridiculous outfit, there was an undeniable air of authority radiating from him.

“How do you  _ do  _ that!?” She demanded, exasperated at how natural it seemed to him. 

“Style darling,” he grinned, “style and grace, same way I do everything. Now let’s get you cleaned up, I’m sure they’ll be coming in soon, so sit back down.” Doing as instructed, Ann stared into her mirror, torn between despairing at her reflection’s ruined makeup, and laughing at Akira behind her, the shock of his appearance giving way to a childish amusement. “Alright, step one, let’s get that crap off your face.” 

Ann’s eyes widened in surprise, “you know how to apply mascara?” 

Akira snorted,” nope. I said get it off, not fix it. Do you have any seltzer in here? They’ve gotta leave you with something to drink, right?” 

“I don’t really drink anything carbonated, but they do leave some with the water they give me, it’s over there.” 

“Perfect.” Grabbing the bottle she’d pointed out, Ann watched him vigorously shake it a few times, setting it down in front of her and twisting off the cap. Fizz erupted from the bottle, spilling out onto the dressing table in waves. “Oh no, what a terrible accident,” he lamented in a dead monotone, “Ann, your makeup’s ruined! At this point it’d be better if you just took it off completely. Such a shame, they put so much effort into it.”

“This is the man trying to give me acting lessons,” Ann groaned. 

“That overwhelming desire you feel right now to cringe, that's the feeling the rest of us get whenever you decide to start trying to act. If it makes you uncomfortable, then aspire to never be that bad again, that alone is probably a more valuable lesson than I could ever give.” Dampening a small cloth with the spilled beverage, Akira gently wiped away what remained of her makeup. “Now, if you’re ever feeling overwhelmed, with acting, modeling, anything really, just take a deep breath. It’s always better to pause and make sure that you’re on the right track, than to get over excited and derail yourself.” 

She took a breath. “O-okay. Hey Akira? What do I do if Mika starts trying to get under my skin again?”

“That’s your call,” he told her simply, “you can get mad, you can try to expose her, you can ignore her, that’s not my place to decide. If I were you though, I’d beat her at her own game, she wanted this fight, so make her regret that choice. Just remember, it’s like wearing a mask, you have to adjust to it, but given time, it’ll all click, and then she can never hope to keep up with you. Just…” Akira paused, cupping her chin to shift her head, searching for any missed spots, “if she gets to you, it’s alright to lower that mask, take a moment to breathe, but don’t drop it. If you drop your mask, it’ll all break apart on you, and you won’t be able to hold the pieces together when you need it most.” 

“Um...okay?” What a weird thing to say. She didn’t really get it, but decided not to press for an explanation. 

“Great, now…” Without ceremony or consultation, Akira removed the clip in her hair, allowing it to cascade down her front, obscuring her vision as it fell like a curtain over her eyes. Unable to see his reaction, she did catch his sharp intake of air. 

“That’s right, I guess you’ve never seen me with my hair down. It’s kind of a mess, right?” 

“.....” 

“Akira?” 

“Wow.” Her hair was pulled away, and she could finally see his stunned expression, the deep red blush filling his cheeks as he looked down at her in awe, and the stillness in his shoulders, like he was forgetting to breathe. That glorious surge of confidence filled her again, making her chest feel like a coiled spring. 

She smiled nervously, wringing her hands. “Is that a...good ‘wow’?”    

His eyes got big as he scrambled to respond. “O-of course it is. I just…” He blew out his cheeks, eyes never leaving her, “I’ll be completely honest...I’m feeling  _ really  _ inadequate in this dress right now.” 

Ann mustered every ounce of self control she possessed to not throw her hands up in victory, instead just leaning back comfortably in her chair. “I dunno Akira, I’m sure you’d turn more than a few heads if you went out looking like  _ that _ .” 

He frowned, tossing her hair back over her eyes, eliciting a giggle from her. “See, I know the vaguely worded compliment was meant to get to me, but I’ll have you know that I  _ do  _ work for an amateur modeling agency.” Ann rolled her eyes, no matter how good it felt to get to him, Akira’s ability to bounce back was remarkable. “It’s only a matter of time before they make this body world famous, mark my words Takamaki.” 

“I’ll be counting the seconds until I see the ads,” she droned sarcastically. Standing from her seat, she pulled her hair back, but decided against putting it up in her normal style. “So, what exactly am I supposed to say about why my hair isn’t pinned up?” 

Akira shrugged, “just say the pin fell out.” 

“That’s...a lot less involved than the makeup plan.” 

“Ann, they’re having a really off day today,” he said with a goofy smile. “I mean c’mon, they lost the  _ keys  _ to the building!” 

“Oh shut up!” She snickered, pulling Akira into a tight embrace. “Akira...thanks, I don’t know if any of this is really going to help me, but y’know what? I’m not feeling so worried anymore. I think I’ll be all….right…..um, Akira?” Her grip slackened as she noticed something, something she’d not seen at first, and had been obscured by her head when she’d looked at him in the mirror. The floodgates finally burst, and she started howling with laughter, burying her face into his neck, pulling him in tight as her whole body was wracked by the laughing fit. 

“Damn I’m good, I don’t even remember making a joke,” she heard him mutter. 

She finally managed to ask her question between bouts of laughing, “did you stuff the chest of this dress?” 

“Ah, that,” he grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “if you’re taking a chance, go all out, right? Besides, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to put that smile back on your face.” 

There were tears in her eyes now. “They’re  _ lopsided _ !” 

“Would you believe this is my first time doing something like this?” Chuckling with her, Akira cupped her chin again, planting a soft kiss on her lips, and smiled down at her like he was the luckiest guy in the world. This look, she had no problem matching perfectly.  

A knock on the door shattered their quiet moment. “Takamaki.” 

“Crap,” Ann muttered, “she pronounced it right. Must be showtime.” 

Akira quietly snickered, conscious of the second set of ears now on them. He kissed her forehead, ushering her towards the door, “knock ‘em dead Panther.” 

 

**October 31st. 5:45 PM**

**Shibuya Underground Mall**

 

**Kitten:** Akiraaaaa! 

 

**Kitten:** My train just got in!

 

**Kitten:** Where r u? 

Tucking the tiny black box into his inner blazer pocket, Akira endeavored to text Ann to stay where she was while clutching tight to the small bag in his other hand.

“There you are!” Akira jumped in surprise, straightening his lapels to be sure that she didn’t suspect anything, then smiled as he spotted Ann approaching. He felt his throat go a little dry as he saw she had kept her hair down, god she was gorgeous. “After all I had to do today, the least you could’ve done was meet me at the station.” Ann’s eyes went wide, shifting between the small bag in his hands and the store behind him. “Tsurukame!? What’re you up to, Kurusu?” 

“Oh, this? It’s not really anything spec-” Faster than he could process, Ann lunged, snatching the bag out of his hand, his other hand still holding his phone preventing him from fending her off. With terrifying glee she began tearing into the veritable blast shield of gift paper within, “-ial. Geez, there’s no crepes in there,” he informed her, counting to make sure he still had all his fingers. 

“What is  _ this _ ?” She giggled, pulling out what was without a doubt the single ugliest piece of jewelry either of them had ever seen. The gem at the center of the bracelet was a muddy brown, yet still had a definite clarity to it. It didn’t look  _ awful _ , but the idea that anybody would actually wear such a thing was baffling. 

“It’s friggin’ expensive is what it is,” he groaned, really feeling the ¥200000 void in his wallet. “Something about this new ‘chocolate diamond’ craze makes these…. _ things _ , pretty popular.” Seeing Ann’s eyes dart nervously between him and the bracelet in her hand, he sighed. “It’s also not for you specifically. The saleswoman gave me this whole bit about how ‘holding it near and staring into it can help to calm a person’s heart’, keep them from succumbing to anger. I  _ would  _ normally say that’s a real terrible way to justify the asking price, but...well,” dejected, he flashed the receipt, ‘they got at least  _ one  _ sucker to buy one, so egg on my face, right?” 

“You actually bought into that? You don’t seem like the type to believe that kinda stuff.” Snatching the receipt from his hand as well, Ann gulped as she glimpsed the price tag, dropping both the bracelet and the receipt back into the bag, thrusting it back into his hands. “¥80000! That’s insane, I could go on a whole day shopping spree through Harajuku with that kinda money.” 

“Tell me about it, that’s sixteen Becky Bucks down the drain.” 

“Sixteen what?” 

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. I honestly just went for it out of curiosity on what kinda effect it’ll have in the Metaverse. If we can get Ryuji to believe it works, it may well pay for itself in how many shadows he  _ doesn’t  _ scare off. Enough about the rock though, let’s walk around, I’m sure you could use a pick-me-up after the day you’ve had.” Seeing the smile that lit up Ann’s face made Akira’s heart give a little start, and he eagerly fell in step behind her as she made a beeline for Lovely Melody for some shopping. “Soooo, don’t keep me in suspense, how’d things go at the shoot?” 

“Pretty good,” she told him with a smile, though it failed to meet her eyes. Reaching out, she tugging absently at a hanging yellow sundress, her eyes seeming distant. “I did really good, even Mika was surprised, but in the end she was just...better than me.” 

“Oh geez, Ann,” he breathed, pulling her into a tight embrace, “this is my fault, I tried to cram too much information into you, I overwhelmed you….god, I’m so sorry.” 

She sighed into his shoulder, “you should be sorry.”  _ Ouch.  _ He deserved that though, not the hug she gave him in return. “I mean, it’s all your fault that I couldn’t stop  _ laughing _ .” Breaking free from his grip, Ann stuck her tongue out at him, hands clasped happily behind her back, leaning forward suggestively. 

_ Did….did I just get played?  _

“W-what?” He stammered dumbly. 

“I got you!” Ann cheered, pumping her fists in the air. “I really don’t think I did as good as Mika, but all the crew were saying I did fantastic. You should’ve seen the look on her face though! Everytime she came over to speak to me, she was trying to throw me off, but I just couldn’t stop giggling at her whenever I saw her face.” Just talking about it was putting an infectious smile on Ann’s face, swinging happily back and forth on her heels. “I couldn’t see that dress and  _ not  _ see you in it, and all of a sudden I can’t even take her seriously.” 

“That’s...fantastic?” Akira gave her hands a comforting squeeze, not sure she should be quite so excited, but still grinning at the sight of her bright smile. Still, at least his gambit with the dress had paid off, so it wasn’t for nothing at least. “Alright, so, time for the important question then.” 

“Yes!” Ann cried, “they said they’d be keeping me on as a model!” 

“Ann,” Akira’s face grew stern, eyebrows furrowing, “I said the  _ important  _ question.” 

Her excitement visibly blew out of her, her eyes flitting over his face, searching for something. “What question?” 

“The only question worth asking,” he replied cryptically. Ann’s smile died down entirely, seeing the intensity of his gaze, concern brewing in her eyes. “Who wore it better, me, or me….ka?” 

“Grrr, Akira!” She slapped angrily at his arms, “I thought you were actually being serious! I got really nervous.” 

“Oh, but it was alright when  _ you  _ did it,” he laughed, dragging a hand through his hair. 

“I’m just an innocent schoolgirl, I’ll have you know. I could never be so evil, unlike  _ somebody  _ I know.” 

“Ah, but of course Lady Ann,” he gushed, offering an exaggerated bow. “Whatever would Morgana say, seeing me doubt you for being the paragon of justice that you so clearly are. Whatever can I do to make reparations for such slander?” 

“Oh, um…” Ann choked up, not expecting the turnaround. “You may...repair me by...bringing me over ther-er... _ yon _ , towards that...garment salesman!” 

Akira blinked rapidly, his lips drawn into a thin smile. “We’ll work on speech some other time, solid effort though. And sure, let’s hit up,” he turned in the direction she pointed to, slumping as he saw her target, “Problem Child, for name brands....great.” With a heavy heart and soon to be even lighter wallet, he guided his smiling girlfriend into what he was sure was only the start of their shopping day. 

“Oh, by the way, you  _ totally  _ wore it better.” 

_ Yes, _ he mouthed silently, shaking his fists victoriously, causing both of them to descend into another fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter begins the main reason why this, and I can't stress this word enough, _introduction_ , because that's really what 'A New Palace' is, is as long as it is, as well as the reason for those four relationship tags. I wanted to create these 'date' chapters (Each girl of the Phantom Thieves is going to get two) partly because I just really love each of the pairings, but more importantly because I want the story proper to focus on one of the four, and make each of their paths genuinely unique, as opposed to a few tweaked lines of dialogue between them, so...basically just four separate stories I suppose. Rather than struggle with the logistics of how that will work out, I'm just going to post what I have written out, and maybe some time down the line see if I can make a poll or something for which of the girls to focus on. For the time being, these date chapters are very isolated, none of the events going on are strictly canon to 'A New Palace', basically just like in the game itself, because this whole thing is long enough as it is, I was gonna tear my hair out if I decided to tweak everything to tailor it to each relationship.  
> Anyway, rant, done. On better news, I discovered the magic button labeled 'Rich Text' that has completely eliminated the editing issues I had with the first chapter so hopefully I'll be able to put these out a bit faster since there's a lot to get through. As with last time, thank you guys so much for taking the time to read, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on how I'm doing. Next chapter is going to be Akira's date with Futaba, so look forward to it.


	3. Getting Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Akira enlists the aid of some of his other confidants to help Futaba clear out her promise lists.

 

**October 31st, 12:02 PM**

**Shibuya Station, Yongen Line.**

 

**Me:** Hey….You’re in Inokashira today, yeah?

**Mona’s Keeper:** Yeah, Ryuji needed a training buddy today, we’ve been running laps around the lake. What’s up?

**Me:** I was hoping we could meet up at Shibuya Station

**Mona’s Keeper:** Sure, we just finished up not too long ago. Any reason in particular for Shibuya?

**Me:** Oh um..n...no reason, just figured we could talk, hang out

**Mona’s Keeper:** Futaba? You know you don’t need to stutter over IM?

 

Futaba squeaked in embarrassment, her face going bright red. She’d typed that way without even thinking, between being out in public, the middle of a crowded subway no less, and the idea that she’d be spending the whole day with Akira, she just couldn’t think straight! With trembling fingers she bled away five whole minutes typing up tentative responses,  _ too obvious, too serious, g _ _od_ , _ this felt like something Ryuji would say. _ Deleting each of them in her anxious state, she was left sitting there, staring at her screen. He was waiting for a response surely? What would five minutes of radio silence look like coming from the resident techie? Still nothing….

She sighed, defeated by a simple observation. She scowled at the screen, Mona’s Keeper? She’d felt obligated to give Akira a nickname with their new relationship, but none came to her no matter how hard she’d searched within herself. Well, no, several had in fact; Key Item, Silent Protag, even Romance Option. But it couldn’t be a gaming term, her relationship with Akira represented a break from her isolation as a hermit, he deserved a name to match. But Mona’s Keeper? Why did she find it so difficult to just call him her boyfriend? 

**Mona’s Keeper:** Heh, just teasing you. So, a ‘see where the day takes us’ kinda date eh? I like this new adventurous girl and all, but what’ve you done with my girlfriend?

Futaba shrieked again as her phone flashed, how was she supposed to respond to that!? She buried her face in her hands, she was a tech wiz dammit! The web was her home, code a language she spoke better than Japanese, Necronomicon might defend her in the Metaverse, but her years in the suit of fiber-optics that was Alibaba made her an unflinching juggernaut of the net. So why then did this  _ boy  _ cause all that mastery to dissipate, forcing all her bravado out the window? To feel so safe in his physical presence, yet so disarmed over the phone…

**Mona’s Keeper:** Just kidding again. I’m on the train to the station now, I’ll be waiting for you there. <3 

Futaba sighed in relief, Akira once more saving her from her own sloth. Glancing around Shibuya Station, she found a good number of people staring at her; she’d evidently made quite a sight leaping and shrieking while sequestered against a remote section of wall. Her cheeks flushed crimson, absolutely mortified to have so much attention garnered on herself. Burrowing into the cleft in her knees, she tried to bury her anxiety at being alone in so public a place, without much success.

_ I knew I should’ve just stayed home.  _

The comfort of four compact walls, her own bed, a mountain of snack foods, and access to her trove of old sci-fi B movies, now  _ that  _ was a good Sunday. Sure, she wouldn't be making any progress towards that ‘be comfortable in public’ promise, but... surely it was still a better alternative to this! Getting dragged through the slog that was navigating Shibuya to god-knows-where, filled with god-knows-who, all those sets of cold, dead eyes judging her, setting her instantly apart, a child trying to make her way as an adult, a floundering oaf, waste of skin. 

_ Murderer.  _

Her body went rigid as the voices tried to return. With a deep breath, she banished them from her mind. She knew now that those voices were just lies, but it was more difficult to change one's subconscious than a single week of group interventions from the Phantom Thieves. Despite her resolve to ignore them, she found herself seeing their faces in random passerby; the men in black here, her uncle there, the women her mother worked with there. 

_ You killed her! _

_ I should never have had her, she was always a bother.  _

_ Well? Say something!  _

_ Why hello there darling.  _

Wait…what?

Looking up from her demons, she found Akira standing there, offering up that smug grin of his. She froze, eyes uncomprehending as he continued speaking. “I didn’t expect you to be here ahead of me, if I didn’t know better, I’d think this was planned.” She blushed, once more reduced to frayed thoughts and incomprehensible stutters, the voices gone altogether from her mind in the wake of this newest challenge. 

“Wagh!” She finally managed, clambering to her feet and launching a flurry of vicious slaps at him. “STOP! DOING! THAT! ALREADY!” 

_ The attack bounced uselessly off his chest, not very effective. 5 Damage! _

_ 5 Damage! _

_ 5 Damage!  _

Growling in frustration, Futaba drew back her arm, pouring all her strength into one final strike, and let fly her fury. 

Aiming a bit too high in the process. 

_ 100 Damage! Critical hit! _

Akira’s head snapped back from the force of the blow against his cheek. One arm shot out, deftly snatching his glasses from the air as they flew from their perch. Quickly recovering and returning the spectacles to his nose, he looked at her once more, unfazed, his feet never having shifted. 

The bastard was still  _ grinning _ !

Her next slap was easily caught, his silken fingers twining with her own. She’d barely a moment to register the sensation as Akira used his, frankly ludicrous, strength to tug her by her ensnared wrist into his arms. She shivered as she felt his free hand slip beneath her camo jacket to rest against the small of her back, the warmth of the contact felt  _ unreal _ . Before she gathered the wherewithal to shove away, chastise him for being so forward, she saw him leaning in, still grinning. 

What was he…?

Oh.

His lips met hers with the tenderness only he could manage, the contact almost featherlike, gods he was such a  _ tease _ . He knew how she yearned for the contact, could practically feel his shit-eating grin through the ghost of a kiss he offered. Her eyes flew open, instantly spotting at least six spectators to their moment of intimacy, causing her to seize up. 

“Still can’t put them out of your mind eh?” His voice was scarcely a whisper, yet it rang in her ears like a bell through the white noise of the station. Meeting those ashen grey eyes, she gave a slight nod, not trusting herself to speak. He detached himself then, mercifully not looking to force the matter. Not that he would ever force her through anything, Akira to her was the perfect representation of the gentleman thief; dependable, kind, capable, and endlessly charismatic. That was why he was her boundless well of courage, her partner in crime against the entire world.   
Her Key Item. 

With that thought she steeled her nerves, hands balling at her sides, muscles bunching, and her teeth sinking painfully into her lower lip. She must’ve made quite the face because he was visibly struggling to bury a laugh. Sucking in a breath, she rose up on her toes, closing the distance between them, her eyes slowly closing to block out any onlookers, ready to try again. 

She felt his hand once more on her wrist, and barely kept her footing as he took off running, dragging her close behind. 

...

 

Akira had to suppress a laugh as Futaba prepped herself. It was easy enough to read after all, she was going to try and fight through her anxiety, for his sake, a touching sentiment. He had other ideas however, though she certainly tempted him as her face scrunched up adorably, but her forcing her way into something wouldn’t eliminate the problem. So before he could succumb and meet her attempted kiss halfway, he took hold of her arm and ran, allowing his laugh to come at the delightful little squeak of surprise she uttered. 

“Where are we going!?? She demanded, her scream just barely audible over the screech of a subway tram once more disembarking. Opting to ignore the question, Akira sharpened his vision, just as the shadowy Igor had taught him, and a route through the throngs before them became clear. With his route secured, Akira launched into the gathering, trailing a petrified Futaba along close behind. 

Squeeze behind the behemoth of a man, taking advantage of the berth everyone else gave him.

Dance nimbly between a few people, shoulders and feet gliding into position to avoid collisions. 

Dodge beneath a briefcase swung in anger, allotting an opening for them as other commuters steered away.

Through the terminal, scanning Futaba’s card as well, snagged from her jacket during a cheeky kiss.

Draw Futaba in close, shoulders squared to dissuade the shady man to their right, with heavily pierced ears and flashy clothes, obviously looking for easy quarry. 

As they finally passed the threshold and Akira relaxed his senses, he started grinning like a madman. He’d blocked her out almost immediately, but Futaba hadn’t once stopped flailing or berating him. He slowed to a stop against one of the dozens of columns loaded down with posters. 

“You can’t just go dragging a girl off in the middle of a subway without…” Hm, one of the posters claimed Rise Kujikawa was capping a tour of hers here in Shibuya, he’d have to let Ann know. “...and how exactly did you get a hold of my pass for the trams? Are you even…” Heh, one of their calling cards from the Kaneshiro heist was still wedged away, that was a pleasant surprise. He never did ask Futaba what she thought of that, did she even  _ know  _ they’d flooded the streets with these, given her seclusion? “You’re a lot of things Akira, but you’re no perv; you staring at that girl’s poster means you’re trying to ignore me, so enough with...the...teasing.” Akira’s smile broadened, she’d just realized the scene she was making. Without further complaint, and with slow, deliberate movements, she took hold of his torso and pulled herself snug against him. 

“Love you too Pharaoh,” he said gently, rubbing the back of her head. She made a strange sound about midway between a moan and a growl as she relaxed into his touch, but prickled against him at hearing his nickname for her. He knew she hated when he called her Pharaoh, but she was just too adorable when she got angry. 

“Akira, what are we doing?” Futaba groaned, leaning heavily into him. 

Kissing the top of her head, he held her close as they started walking again. “Going off  your suggestion of seeing where the day takes us, I’ve decided that we’re gonna do a thing.” 

“Nooooooo,” she huffed, “Akira, you know how much I hate the pointlessly obscure ‘things’.” 

“Okay, so we’re not doing a thing. I have a plan.” 

“I  _ hate  _ when you make plans.” 

“You hate when I make plans with  _ other people _ , you get  _ nervous _ when I make plans involving you. Now relax, we’re going to see a specialist.” 

“A specialist? Akira, I’m not sure you’ve met the people in Shibuya, but this feels like a terrible idea. I don’t trust any kinda voodoo that specialists are peddling, pleaseletmegoyoucantmakemesufferthis!” 

Akira sighed as Futaba dug her heels in, halting their progress and drawing the curious eyes of dozens of commuters. She was fighting to get away with all her might, actually leaning back about forty-five degrees as she pulled against his grip on her wrist. For a single, twisted moment, Akira considered relinquishing his hold to let her launch herself. But he was a merciful god, so instead he steadied the girl on her feet, holding her ensnared hand in both of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She cracked her eyes open, settling down somewhat as he felt her hand curl around his own reflexively. 

“I admit that they tend to be full of shit, and this one just might not even be of this world, but even I can vouch for his incredible prowess.” 

“‘His’?” Releasing his hold on Futaba’s hands, Akira made a grand sweeping gesture towards one of the far station walls. 

“FREEZE!” The young couple both stopped, shocked at the intensity of the command. “This is perfect! The incredible poise of your stance! The mixture of fear and curiosity burning in the young lady’s eyes! Truly you are a worthy muse!” 

“Inari?” 

“Yep,” Akira confirmed with an easy grin, ushering Futaba over to Yusuke’s little corner by the stairwell. “Yo, Yusuke! Any inspiring souls wander by today?” 

“Indeed, it’s truly a shame you couldn’t have been here to witness it Akira,” Yusuke’s eyes closed, a winsome smile on his lips as he recalled the encounter. “There was a young couple arguing earlier, they’d missed the train bound for Jimbocho on account of the man’s insistence on working longer hours. Apparently this was becoming a regular occurance, them losing the time they’d set aside to spend together on account of this habit, thus came the inevitable argument. It was exquisite, Akira. It’s true that couples who fight the most truly care the most for one another. The explosive fury in the woman’s eyes, tempered by a deep sorrow and longing. The passion the man fought back with despite the exhaustion that hung over him, the pain in his eyes over causing pain to the very reason he subjected himself to such toil. Even the surprise they both displayed when I spoke of their incredible bond was in itself worthy of a mural.” 

Akira whistled, impressed. “Wow Yusuke, you stepped in between a lovers’ quarrel to help them?” 

“Of course,” the artist’s eyes cracked open slightly, still half-lidded as he grimaced. “They refused to stand still after all. After our brief exchange however, they departed with barely a word, save to say that they’d browse central street for entertainment instead.”

“I...see,” Akira frowned, unsure how else to respond. 

“So Inari just,  _ stares _ at people all day?” 

“Rude,” Yusuke pointed out, glaring down at Futaba. “Though not entirely incorrect I suppose. I take it by Futaba’s presence that I’m interrupting something. Sunday is your day off after all, so I assume you’re not here to collect me for the Metaverse?” 

“You’re not interrupting anything, as a matter of fact, we were actually looking for you.”  

“Um,  _ HE _ , was looking for you,” Futaba corrected, positioning herself solidly behind Akira. 

Looping an arm over her shoulders, Akira dragged Futaba back into position beside him. “ _ WE _ , were looking to join you Yusuke. I need your help, it’s time for Operation Painted Lady.” 

...

 

Futaba glanced anxiously between Akira and Yusuke as the artist’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, smiling like all his Christmases had come early. “Wonderful! Do join me then.” Moving his bag aside, Yusuke sat down once more, his back to the wall, patting the ground beside him for Akira and her to join him. 

“Painted Lady?” She asked, taking a seat in between the boys. 

“Formerly Operation Monarch,” Akira explained, “then Yusuke entered the picture and claimed that the Monarch butterfly was ‘too well known to have significance.’” Futaba blinked, sitting intently as she waited for him to continue, but that appeared to be the end of his summary, as if that had explained anything. 

“The monarch butterfly is an overused symbol, to the point of cliché.” 

“Ignoring the fact that the pattern on its wings matches  _ extremely  _ well with her hair colour.” 

“Which is why I offered a middle ground of the Painted Lady, which bears a similar pattern and colour scheme, as well as having a thematically appropriate name for an operation that  _ I _ am to take part in.” 

Futaba buried her face in her hands.  _ What have I done?  _ “What are you morons talking about? What kind of amateur secret agent bs are you two trying to pull?” 

“Just as the humble Painted Lady must break free of her cocoon, so too must you Futaba. If you wish to experience the world in all its majesty, you must brave its dangers, free of your lonesome shell.” Looking back to Akira for a translation, her boyfriend offered her a bright smile.

“Long story short, we’re gonna do some people watching.” 

“And Inari?” 

“Yusuke here knows all the best spots to do it from. Ain’t that right Yusuke?” 

“Indeed, from here we can see the influx of commuters coming off the Ginza line, as well as all foot traffic through the underground mall. At this exact moment, one can observe and appreciate a wonderful spectrum of emotions in passerby, the relief and exhaustion from those returning from a hard day’s toil, the joy of shoppers seeking to spend a free day in comfort, the masked ire of those who detest the company they keep, but wear a smile to appease them. This is the perfect junction to witness this spectacle from, it is small wonder that Mementos represents this place, for it allows such an unobstructed glimpse into the depths of the human heart, though certainly not as raw a look as its Metaversal counterpart.” 

“Rrrriiiight, so why do  _ I  _ have to do this exactly?” 

Akira glared at her a moment, then sighed. “Just humor me. We won’t do this for too long, and afterwards I’ll take you to Akihabara for something fun.” 

“Fun you say?” Futaba scratched her cheek, pondering what exactly ‘fun’ might entail. She  _ had  _ been expressing a desire recently to kit out her computer a bit further, maybe Sojiro had mentioned as much, Akira  _ was  _ his go-to for complaining about her.  _ Oooooh _ , so it was the ‘there’s a sale, here’s my wallet’ kinda fun. Mwehehehe,  _ that  _ she could get behind. 

“Futaba?” Looking up, she found Akira looking down at her, a worried expression on his face. “You’ve got this glint in your eye, kinda like Morgana actually. Everything alright?” 

“Oh! Of cour-ahhh!?” Probably still thinking she needed comfort, Akira gave her head a pat, and it damn near felt like she was gonna burst into flames, how did he always know how to set her off? “S…we...ing?” 

“Hmm? Sorry Futaba, I didn’t catch that.” 

“So what’re we doing?” She mumbled, drawing her knees against her chest so she could hide how red she was. 

Miraculously, he seemed not to notice how much he’d affected her, though Yusuke began to audibly sketch something furiously beside her. “Alright, so first thing’s first, we need to get in the proper mindset. I want you to fill your mind.” What kind of advice was  _ that _ ? “Now you might’ve misheard me, you might have heard, ‘clear your mind’. No. I said,  _ fill  _ your mind, think about all the most pointless, nonsensical shit you can imagine. Think about what could possibly possess two grown men to argue the semantics of proper butterfly breeds for their titular operation name. Think about how Mona can turn into a car because the public believes cats do that, so does he  _ also  _ actually have nine lives, and we should really just be lobbing him around like a grenade in the Metaverse since he has eight to spare. And most importantly, think about how  _ unfairly  _ handsome your boyfriend is, like, god  _ damn  _ you’re lucky.” 

“Oh get out of here,” she swatted the back of Akira’s head, grinning at the dazed look he got. “Okay, so I’m not actually…. _ talking  _ to all those people...right?”  

“Of course not, we’re just staring at them, nothing creepy, like talking. Alright, head full’a bullshit?” Futaba nodded slowly, unsure where this was going. “Good, now quick, describe the first person you see, give as much or as little detail as you like.” 

“Right.” Swiveling her head around, Futaba’s eyes locked on a man coming down the Ginza stairwell. “Okay, there’s a tall guy in a grey suit, brown hair in a bowl cut, square glasses and a flat nose, suitcase in one hand and a phone in the other. Classic NPC,” she summarized. 

“Intriguing deduction,” Yusuke commented, his eyes now trained on the man she’d indicated as his pen danced across his sketch pad. “A manager at a small office in Asakusa, as well as the father of a fellow Kosei student. He makes an effort to return home early on Sundays that he might spend extra time with his family.” 

Blinking rapidly like he’d misheard, Akira turned his head towards the artist, “Yusuke...what’re you doing?” 

“Showing Futaba the depth that people are capable of.” The wistful smile dropped from Yusuke’s lips as he met Akira’s eyes,” was that not the objective?” 

“No, no it wasn’t. Yusuke, I thought you wanted in on this so that you could ‘capture the beauty of metamorphosis’, you don’t have to do anything else. Actually I would  _ prefer _ if you didn’t do anything else.” 

Blowing out her cheeks, Futaba pursed her lips, quietly observing the crowds in the hope that the reason for her doing so would begin to make sense. “Hey, wait a minute…” How the hell did bowl cut manage to loop the entire station to come back down this stairwell again? Thinking about cats didn’t make her space out  _ that  _ badly. 

“Ah, you spot him again?” She nodded, following the man’s movements intently, careful not to lose him this time. She could feel Akira’s excited eyes bore into the side of her head, “it’s actually-” 

“A different man entirely,” Yusuke cut in, his self indulgent smile returning. “He appears in Shibuya quite regularly, I believe he’s pining for the attention of the attendant at Rafflesia, though she’s far too kind to realize as much, apparently a businessman in the middle of Tokyo returning almost daily to purchase fertilizer doesn’t warrant suspicion in her eyes. Perhaps today is the day that he decides to be candid with his feelings for her, hopefully then he shall be able to dispel this haze of despair that has plagued him as of late.” 

Akira looked at Yusuke like he’d lost his mind. “Dude, what the hell?” 

“Akira, although I appreciate the value in acknowledging the often redundant appearances of crowds, do you not agree that focusing on  _ inner _ beauty can prove a more important lesson for Futaba?” 

Akira’s eyes looked distant for a moment as he nearly crammed his entire fist into his mouth, sighing loudly. “Yusuke, what do you think the problem is that we’re trying to address here? Because I’ll tell you right now, the issue has never been that Futaba doesn’t care  _ enough  _ about what other people are thinking and feeling.”

“He’s right Inar-” Futaba’s eye caught on yet another bowl cut, crossing paths with the one she was currently tracking. He was even wearing the same color suit for crying out loud! 

This time, Akira didn’t even get to speak. “A curious man who spends ample time around Shinjuku, a life of monotonous office work has apparently cultivated a love of cross-dressing within him. On occasion he comes here for the Problem Child store in the underground mall, seeking to expand his wardrobe. An selfish desire that brooks in him one the most genuine expressions of happiness I’ve ever had the pleasure of-” 

_ Could  _ they just use Mona as a meat shield? Having eight extra lives could be  _ super  _ handy after all. 

“Right!” Akira pulled Futaba to her feet and out of her thoughts, “on that note, we’re gonna go somewhere else to attempt this from.” 

“Of course, this spot can at times feel as monotonous as Mementos, so a change of scenery would-” Akira placed a finger to Yusuke’s lips, silencing him. 

“You may come Yusuke, but if you keep derailing me, you’re off the team. We clear?” 

“The..current operational team, or the Phantom Thieves?” 

“Yes.” 

“But I’m merely trying to broaden-”Akira’s eyes narrowed dangerously, allowing no further argument. “Quite clear.” 

 

It clearly wasn’t. 

From the movie theater lobby, Futaba spotted another bowl cut man and a colleague of his leaving a showing of ‘Green Turtle,’ a new superhero film about a former bank robber who became a government test subject. As part of a project to develop a squad of naturally armored soldiers, the man grew a diamond hard shell all along his back. Being a former criminal, he’s a massive coward, so every conflict he runs into, he runs right back out of, with the new shell, nobody can damage his back. It was pretty alright, Futaba had seen it last week, six outta ten, easy. 

As soon as Yusuke caught sight of him however, the tour guide-esque lectures resumed. “A very socially awkward individual, every Sunday he purchases two tickets to whatever happens to be playing that evening, and invites random passerby to join him in watching it, in the hopes of making new friends supposedly. I thought at first that he was simply a kind gentleman, when we met, he claimed he’d been stood up and offered me the extra ticket, and treated me to a delightful conversation about the use of computer generated imagery in cinema. Then, I witnessed him offering the same excuse to another lone man the following week, I felt quite used after that, I must say.” 

“Don’t worry man, we’ve all had those moments,” Akira told him, patting the artist on the back. “Wait, why am I...gah! You’re distracting  _ me  _ now!” 

Futaba didn’t even have it in her to sigh at that point, she’d lost her boyfriend, she was just along for the ride now. If enough people woke up in the morning thinking it was Monday, when it was actually Sunday, would time warp even further in the Metaverse? Questions for later. 

 

Half an hour later, the trio had settled down in the beef bowl shop, tucking eagerly into their lunch when they spotted, wonder of wonders, another man with a bowl cut come wandering in. It was a cycle that couldn’t be broken, there was always a bowl cut, there was always an Inari biography, and there was always an argument that followed. 

“He’s actually recently been rendered homeless, he’s now living in the subways,” Yusuke commented through a huge mouthful of barbeque beef, not even the voracious appetite of a starving artist could stop him. “He struggles to keep himself presentable with what money remains to him, he says that looking clean is the luxury that gives him the most hope that his fortunes will turn around. I only wish destitution were something we could fix as easily as we do a person’s heart.” 

“Yusuke, I never see you leave your corner in the subway station, how the hell do you know all these people?” 

“Because unlike you Akira, I  _ listen  _ to people, I’m not so dismissive of them simply because I can’t distinguish them at a glance!” 

“....get back to eating, Kitagawa.” 

Being that they represent the general public, shouldn’t more shadows in Mementos be weak to guns? Do people generally think that bullets wouldn’t kill them? Or was it more along the lines that they don’t think that running into people with guns is a real concern? 

 

They capped off their meal with drinks at the diner. Futaba stared absently out the window, one finger lazily circling her straw around her glass of frui-tea.  _ I could be home right now, all I had to say was ‘Akira, let’s just hang at Leblanc,’ and that would’ve been it. But no, I had to try and complete my stupid promise list, and now this is my life.  _

“That’s actually somebody that we’ve helped in Mementos, his boss had been stealing credit for his work, as well as all his other employees. He’s doing fabulously now from what I can tell, always looking cheerful.” 

_ Are they still on about this?  _

“Always good to see another satisfied customer, do you reckon he-” 

“Oh my god! Shut up!” The boys seemed only vaguely surprised as she slammed her fists down on the table, shoulders heaving as her frustrations finally bubbled up to the surface. Several sets of eyes from around the diner zeroed in on her, and she met one in particular with fire in her eyes. “The hell are you lookin’ at bowl cut!?” Not even bothering to see if the man looked away, she turned on her companions. “What is the  _ point  _ of any of this? I am  _ sick  _ of hearing these people’s life stories, I’ve never spoken to any of them, I never  _ will  _ speak to any of them. I don’t. Friggin.  _ Care _ !” 

Akira and Yusuke both looked at each other, then back at Futaba, before meeting in a painful sounding high five. “She finally gets it,” Akira cheered, slumping in his seat. 

“A good thing too, I don’t think I’d be able to come up with any more of these,” Yusuke agreed, every ounce of vigor draining out of him as he sighed. 

Futaba blinked.  _ What?  _

“What?”

“ _ That’s _ the point Futaba,” Akira explained, “you shouldn’t care, there’s absolutely no reason to, your day will go on regardless of anything a single one of those people does. Likewise they don’t care a wink about you, nobody here, except for the man whose career we  _ actually  _ saved, that you just called out for his questionable haircut, is going to remember you an hour from now.” 

“But...then Inari was-” 

“Doing all of that on purpose, and doing a  _ fantastic _ job, if you don’t mind me saying, of coming up with those backstories on the fly, I’m impressed Yusuke.” 

“Thank you,” Yusuke smiled, though it was clear that he was still drained, “for the expression on Futaba’s face, it was worth every second. I plan to head straight back to the dorms, with that wonderful lunch to fuel me, I plan to work through the night on this piece. I’ll leave you two to the rest of your day together, it’s been a pleasure.” 

“Take care Yusuke. Wait, you have money to take the train back rig- ah he’s already gone.” Akira glanced down at Futaba, patting her head, “thanks for putting up with all that, I hope it helps.” 

“I...what….but.” She was still angry, but they’d been helping, even if they were insufferable about it....she couldn’t just turn this off. What was she supposed to do with her hands? They were  _ shaking _ . What the hell could she be mad at!? 

“So, you ready for that fun I promised you earlier?” 

“I...I…”  _ Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him. He doesn’t deserve it. He  _ kinda  _ deserves it.  _ She slapped him.  _ God, can’t he let himself get fazed even  _ once  _ by these?  _ “STOP SMILING!” 

“I’ll take that as a yes! C’mon, next train to Akihabara’s due in like, three minutes, let’s leg it!” 

 

**October 31st. 5:40 PM**

**Gigolo Arcade, Akihabara**

 

“The arcade?” 

“Don’t sound so excited, somebody might get the impression that you’re actually happy.” 

“Well I’m sorry I can’t have more enthusiasm over being taken to the gaming equivalent of a  _ museum _ . Y’know, there’s a reason we only used that retro system of yours once, it’s because there’s all of, like, three good games for it.” 

“Relax, you’re gonna  _ love  _ this. If you genuinely don’t, the electronics store’s a whole thirty second walk from here.” 

Futaba was  _ not  _ pleased with this turn of events. She was angry that her plans to just spend an evening with her boyfriend had been shredded in an effort to involve every other person in Tokyo on their date. She was angry that Akira thought that more of his games from the 90’s would help her relax. And she most certainly wasn’t happy that she was  _ still  _ seeing that damn bowl-cut NPC all the way in Akihabara! 

She could practically  _ hear  _ Yusuke’s voice from here. “He’s a criminal prosecutor who ventures here each Sunday to end his week by indulging a partiality to maid cafes. Such a curious juxtaposition between the working man and the man of leisure, I wonder which is the mask? The expression he’s currently sporting is a mystery however, such a distant looking sorrow, do you suppose he plans to confess to one of the-” 

“Get outta my head Inari!” Raking a fistful of hair in both hands, she charged through the doors to the Gigolo Arcade. She heard Akira snicker as he entered behind her, so she swung her foot back into his shin, satisfied as she felt his whole body slump in pain, he deserved that one. “Fine, I’m in here now, so now what?”  

“Akira, you’re back!” Her frustration suddenly forgotten, Futaba searched for the source of the new voice, her eyes scanning the technicolor haven and spotting a gremlin approaching them. It wore an appropriately baby blue jacket with sneakers of the same shade, along with a pair of rolled up jeans. Featuring most prominently on the creature’s mop of black hair was a crimson ball cap with gold letters spelling out the bold declaration ‘GET SMOKED’. Glancing to the sidelines, full of oblivious gamers pouring their full attention to their respective machines, she confirmed that the creature was most definitely speaking to  _ her  _ Akira. Why was this child talking to them? “A girl? Hey Akira, who’s the chick?” Okay, scratch that, who was this little  _ hellion _ and how many witnesses were there to the murder about to go down? 

Akira sank to his knee beside her, putting himself eye level with the boy. “Yo Shinya, taking care of your mom, right?” 

“Of course I am, what kinda scrub do you think I am?” The boy Shinya laughed, bumping fists with Akira. Futaba felt her iciness melt a little at the gesture, he  _ was  _ just a kid after all. 

“Alright, so long as you’re not causing trouble for her. Shinya, this is Futaba. Futaba, Shinya.” The two of them waved, exchanging a polite, though awkward hello. Aware that she should probably  _ not  _ treat the child like garbage, Futaba made an effort to smile, an effort which drew a slight blush out of the boy. “Shinya, Futaba here is a part of the team I was telling you about, so I wanted you two to meet.” 

Shinya’s eyes shot open wide. Crap, he  _ is  _ just a kid after all. “SHE’S A PHAN-” Futaba lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the excitable little yapper’s head before he could bring the whole arcade down on them. 

“A huge fan of Gun About, exactly,” Akira quickly cut in, motioning for her to release the kid. “So when I told her that I was friends with the guy who beat the legendary Takekuma, she begged me to arrange a meeting.” 

“Is that right?” Futaba sneered, knocking the smug grin right off the brat’s face with a flick to the forehead. “OW! What the heck?” 

“Don’t go getting any ideas, kid.” 

“Calling me a kid, what is she, twelve?” Rubbing his forehead, Shinya’s expression quickly brightened again, looking at her with unsuppressed awe. “Still, this is so cool! So you uh…’work’ with Akira?” 

“Yep yep,” she chirped. “Well, sorta.” 

Shinya scratched his head, “sorta?” He glanced up at Akira for help. 

“She does something a little different, but she wants to get into what I do though, and I was hoping you’d be able to help with that.” 

“Another one?” Shinya put his hands on his hips, looking Futaba up and down, “I dunno Akira, you were kind of a pain to work with, I’m not sure I can go through that again.” 

Futaba cocked her head to the side. “If  _ you  _ can go through that? What, do you hang out with your brother while he plays?” 

Shinya frowned, opening his mouth to speak, before Akira put a hand on his shoulder to silence him. “Don’t tell her, if you look  _ real _ close, you can see the little hamster wheel spinning in her head.” 

What were they talking about? It was actually pretty cute that a kid like this would hang out with his older brother. Plus with Akira there, he was sure to keep from becoming a problem child...or he might become the  _ most  _ problematic child. Sheesh, thinking about it, there was every chance that her boyfriend was just creating a miniature version of himself, which was a scary thought. They were still staring at her though. What wasn’t she...getting….” _ HIM!? _ ” 

Akira cheered, “give the girl a prize!” 

“He’s like, five!” 

“I’m  _ eight _ !” Shinya jabbed a finger at Akira. “There better be something real good in this for me, I’m liking this less by the minute.” 

“I take it that you won’t find it in your pure, juvenile heart to do me a solid here?” Akira slumped at the sneer Shinya shot his way. “Alright, if we’re gonna make a deal, we’re doing this like proper thieves, let’s negotiate a price.” 

“Whoa, cool!” Shinya’s eyes lit up, then darted over to Futaba, gesturing for Akira to lean a bit further down, whispering something in the older boy’s ear that she couldn’t catch. 

Whatever he’d said made Akira burst out laughing. “ _ Damn  _ kid, didn’t think you had it in you! Alright, I accept your terms.” Reaching out, Akira stopped short as he saw the look of contempt Shinya greeted the hand with, chuckling to himself. “Wow, you’re  _ really  _ serious about this. Guess I’ve got competition.” Akira sucked in a deep breath, and...spat in his hand. Shinya did the same, and the two shook. 

Futaba winced slightly at the gross squelching noise when their hands met. It was still  _ kinda  _ cute that her boyfriend had such a clear bond with the kid, it was a little bit like he was Shinya’s older brother. Yet any thought that he was just acting for the younger boy’s sake vanished as she glimpsed the stoic expressions both boys sported, both giving the handshake all the gravity of a blood oath. “So what’s going on now? Do I get any details on the back-alley dealings going on here?” 

Akira’s immediate reaction to her question was to turn on his heels towards the exit, her first indication that something sketchy was going on. “Shinya’s agreed to teach you, so I’m gonna head out for a minute, I’ve got some stuff to pick up. I won’t be too long with any luck though.” 

“It’ll take more than luck,” Shinya snickered. “C’mon Futaba, let’s get started.” The kid was suddenly getting a bit grabby, pulling at her jacket sleeve to drag her towards the Gun About machine, her second indicator. 

“Hold up!” Breaking away from Shinya’s grip, she grabbed a handful of Akira’s blazer collar, yanking him back a few steps to whisper in his ear. “Akira, don’t you think I’ve done enough self-improvement for one day? I don’t wanna do this  _ now _ , especially if you’re not around.” 

“What better time than the present to get cracking on that promise list?” Akira smiled, ruffling her hair a bit, knowing full well that doing so always took her off guard, this time being no different, as evidenced by the rush of heat she felt in her cheeks. “And trust me, you don’t want me around to start out. Gun About’s a lot to take in, plus Shinya’s kind of…. _ intense _ , when he’s playing, you’ll barely even recognize him. This is the middle ground between gaming and real action after all, so I’m not sure how well you’ll do, best that I get rid of any distractions so you can give it your full attention and not get crushed.” 

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You  _ asshole _ .” He just smiled, and she let him scurry off like the rat he was. The bastard just threw the gauntlet at her very pride as a gamer. For now she’d accept, she didn’t have much choice, but he was gonna  _ get it  _ later. “Alright Shinya, hope you’re ready to get demolished.” 

Marching straight past Shinya, she approached the machine and whipped out one of the pistol controllers, taking aim at the screen to quickly shoot out a profile for herself. “Huh, so you don’t need me to hold your hand just to navigate a menu, you’re already better than Akira.” 

“You’ve been playing all this time with a relic of the dark ages, Akira’s gaming repertoire boils down to Star Forneus and Punch Ouch. I on the other hand, play games that were developed in _this_ millenium.” 

“Huh,” Shinya smiled in relief, “this won’t be so bad then! By the way, Alibaba?” 

“Code name that I go by sometimes.” 

“That’s right, Akira said you guys even have cool names you call each other on the job.” 

“Oh, that’s a different one than the code name I use.” 

“Wait, you use two different fake na-” 

“Yeah yeah,” she snapped angrily, “geez, you’re starting to sound like Joker. Let’s get on with it.” 

“Well, there’s no tutorial, so I’ll try to help you as you go.” Shinya held her wrist, gently guiding her arm up so that she was pointing at the center of the screen. “You wanna keep your view centered, you want as much room to look around as possible.” There was something about the way he held her wrist a moment longer than was necessary that gave Futaba a third warning. Ignoring it for now, she tried to zone out, to imagine the arcade around her as one of the levels of Mementos. “Okay, so the d-pad on the left of the gun is what you’ll use your left hand for, that moves you around while actually aiming the gun is what’ll turn you. You start with body armor that'll take two shots for you, so hopefully you won't lose too quickly to start with. So the first thing you should do is…” 

 

**10 Minutes Later**

 

Akira pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head in frustration. “The girl just  _ had  _ to hug him, of all the ways to shut him up. Kid’s eight years old, ‘course he’s gonna get a crush after that, just my luck,” he muttered, placing his newly acquired mothman figurine into his bag. “Still, there’s no telling that I’d have been able to get away with just buying him something, at least this way he agreed to it. She’s never gonna wanna come back here if he goes clingy grade schooler on her though. I just hope she doesn’t try to kill him before I…” He pushed through the door to the arcade, stopping in his tracks, he blinked his eyes rapidly to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. 

“THAT ALL YA GOT YOU LITTLE BITCH-BOY!?” 

“SAYS THE HUNCHBACK WHO CAN’T AIM FOR SHIT!” 

Akira pushed his way into the growing crowd that had assembled before the Gun About machine, ignoring the angry protests as he shouldered through. Quickly making it to the front of the group, he found Futaba and Shinya locking horns in an intense match, coming painfully close to slamming into one another as they violently jerked about, both trying desperately to get the other in their sights. Turning to one of the spectators, another high schooler from the looks of him, he tried to make sense of the situation, “King’s found himself another opponent huh?” 

“Did he ever,” the high schooler whistled, “she can’t land a shot on him, but she moves around like a friggin’ drunken master, she’s even giving King trouble. Plus, I’ve never seen anybody get as worked up as he does when he’s playing, much less a girl. It’s no professional match, but it’s still pretty funny to watch.” 

That wasn’t good, Shinya’s terms were that if she couldn’t land at least two shots on the kid, then Akira would have to leave again, and with how they were screaming at each other, he wasn’t sure he could afford to leave them alone any longer than he already had. 

“YES! GET! SMOKED!” 

Futaba slammed her gun back into the machine, turning on her opponent with bloodlust in her eyes. “You wanna say that again you shortstack, Pocky Stick Guild looking motherf-” 

“Futaba!” Breaking free of the horde, Akira grabbed the girl by her hand, locking her in place at arm’s length from Shinya, who unhelpfully decided to stick his tongue out at her. “Language. And c’mon, he’s eight, go easy on hi-” The hacker spun around, pouring all the considerable fury her tiny frame could muster into a sharp back hand that snapped Akira’s head to the side. 

“Phew,” she huffed, her shoulders slumping as she relaxed. She smiled up at him sweetly, “thanks Akira, I  _ really  _ needed to hit something there, probably for the best that it wasn’t Shinya.” 

“Always glad to be a cheek to wail on,’ he commented dryly, massaging his cheek as he opened and closed his jaw, checking if she’d broken anything. “You two seem to have really hit it off, it’s rare that I see Futaba get so worked up.” Akira decided not to address the slowly dispersing crowd, as it seemed that Futaba had yet to notice them, best to keep it that way. “How much damage did you manage to get on him anyway?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Shinya hurried to inform him. “You can stay, just don’t leave me alone with her.” Well, that certainly wasn’t the expected outcome of this little crush, but Akira wasn’t about to complain. 

“Aww, love you too Shinya,” Futaba teased with an easy smile, failing to notice how the boy blushed at this. “This was great, I didn’t think an arcade game would be so fun. I felt like I nearly had you for a minute there.” 

‘Yyyeeah, no.” Shinya sighed, shaking his head, “it wasn’t even close honestly. I wasn’t joking, your aim just plain sucks, that’s gonna need a  _ lot  _ of work.” 

“Well how about you two have a rematch right away then,” Akira suggested, giving Shinya a sly smile, “after all, you’ve got an unfair advantage, Shinya.” The boy rolled his eyes, folding his arms. 

“I don’t think all that experience is a wall I’m getting over anytime soon,” Futaba admitted, “that level gap’s not going away without hours of grinding.” 

“That’s not what he’s talking about,” Shinya grunted, his brows furrowing in irritation. “The only time this guy ever managed to beat me was the time he got me to lend him my hat, so now he’s convinced that it’s magic.” 

“Ooh,” Futaba clasped her hands together excitedly, “we talkin’ a ledge-oh or a set piece?

Akira shrugged, “could be either honestly. He lost it, I gained it, I won, he lost, just sayin’.” 

“I’m not giving her the hat!” Shinya barked. 

“Shin-”  _ No _ , this needed to happen, no time to let pride get in the way. “Milord, please.” Akira fell to his knees, prostrating himself at Shinya’s feet. “As you’ve aided me before, she merely needs your Grace’s blessing.” 

“Get up,” the boy ordered, an edge to his voice now, “we aren’t giving you our hat, end of story.” 

“Wait,” Futaba interrupted, “was that the royal ‘we’?” 

“He _is_ the King,” Akira offered, “and the king _is_ gonna give up his crown, don’t you wor-”  
“Hey Shinya!” 

“Sorry we’re late, there was some weirdo hogging the capsule machines for like, ten minutes trying to get a Mothman.”

Turning away from a kneeling Akira, the gunner waved at his friends, who Akira recognized as the same kids Shinya had made peace with after defeating the old champion. “Don’t worry about it guys, I was in the middle of a match anyway.” The two newcomers both looked towards Futaba, who was fidgeting noticeably as her following grew.

“Wow Shinya,” one of them gawped, “is she your girlfriend?” 

“ _ Weeeelll _ ,” Shinya scratched his cheek nervously. Akira’s hands slapped down over his shoulders, a wordless advisor to watch how he answered. “N-nope!” 

“She’s  _ mine _ , boys,” Akira boasted, noting with a grin how Futaba blushed. “We’ll get out of your hair though, c’mon Futaba.” Before they slinked away however, Akira gave Shinya one last friendly pat on the back, “I’m getting that crown of yours next time, King.” 

“We’ll see. You better not be slacking Akira, you want the hat? You're gonna have to play me for it.” 

“You better keep those trigger fingers sharp then, next time we're back, you're going down Shinya.”

“I don't mind if you play a quick round against him now, we're already here, you may as well,” Futaba offered, obviously trying to be helpful. No, she was grinning, she  _ knew  _ what she was doing. 

“ _ Next time _ ,” Akira repeated, looping an arm around Futaba’s waist.

“See ya later Shinya!” She called as Akira dragged her back out into Akihabara. “That kid’s a real piece of work,” she remarked. 

Akira laughed, “you liked him though.” 

She made a show of yawning, stretching her arms out while she tried to act uninterested. “I didn’t say he wasn’t growing on me, he’s just...y’know…” 

“Eight?” 

“Pretty much.” Futaba yawned again, a genuine one this time, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. “Can we go home now?” 

“If you want,” he told her, “I figured that you’d wanna head into the electronics store first.” Closing her eyes peacefully, Futaba fell against Akira’s chest, pretending to snore quite loudly. “Okay, okay, we’ll head straight home. You’ll have to leg it there yourself though, I’m not carrying you.” Her response was, still snoring, to snake both arms around his neck. 

Akira ignored her, rolling his shoulders. It had been a good day, Yusuke had done perfectly, helping him get Futaba a little more comfortable with crowds. They also succeeded in winding her up enough that all it took was a little jab to get her to take up Gun About, and now his darling hermit had yet another member in her circle of friends. Shinya would get her whipped into shape as a ranged combatant, at least enough that she’d be able to defend herself to some degree in the Metaverse. 

A particularly loud snore grabbed his attention again, she was hopping in place, lifting her knees up suggestively. Rolling his eyes, Akira caught her bridal style, stopping the snoring as Futaba nuzzled happily against his chest, chuckling wickedly. “You’re gonna have to get down once we’re back home, Sojiro’ll have a fit if he sees us like this.” 

“We’ll figure that out when we get there. Now, onwards!” 

“I thought you were sleeping.” Chuckling one last time, she allowed her breathing to slow, and Akira was sure she’d be out cold by the time they reached the station. Craning his neck down, he planted one last kiss on her head. “Sweet dreams Pharoah.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Alice, though you'll probably never see this, I hope you still hate people with bowl cuts on sight. 
> 
> Hello everybody, putting out a new chapter on the ass end of the sixth day instead of taking a full week still counts as 'a bit faster', right? That sounds right, math was never my strong suit though. This was definitely a strange chapter to write, I can only hope it was at least mildly entertaining to read. 
> 
> Next chapter's gonna be a break from the Phantom Thief girls, it's gonna be one you either love or hate, if the fandom for this game has taught me anything, because it's gonna center on Mishima and Ohya, so look forward to it. As ever, thank you for reading, and it'd just make my day if you could take the time to leave your thoughts on how I'm doing. Until next time, take care everyone.


	4. At the Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Phantom Thieves' supporters collaborate

**October 31st. 7:23 PM**

**Shinjuku, Crossroads Bar**

 

“You sure come here a lot...I guess I don’t really mind it, but keep yourself in check, okay?” 

“I always do, Lala,” Mishima reminded her, closing the door behind him and rolling up the sleeves of his baggy green shirt. 

“Fair enough. You here to work I take it?” He nodded, eyes scanning for the regular five o’clock boozehound. “Ohya had to step out to take a call,” Lala informed him, reading his mind, “not sure if she’ll be back in tonight.” 

“I’m not that lucky Lala, she’ll be back. I mean, she better be, I’ve gotta talk to her and she’s already flaked on me twice.” 

“You’re really serious about this book of yours,” it wasn’t a question, Lala’s eyes were hard as she put out her cigarette.  

Mishima smiled, “don’t worry Lala, you’ll be in it. The whole world will know that the Crossroads was integral to the Phantom Thieves’ mission, I’ll drum up more business than you’ll know what to do with!” 

“That’s what I’m scared of sweetie, I got all the lost souls I can handle already. Have you decided on a name for it yet?” 

Mishima stiffened as he recalled Akira asking the same question.  _ “Mishima, I’m gonna tell you this right now, unless I find out that you had a literal gun pressed against your head, if you don’t name this thing the Phan-tome, I will  _ personally  _ hunt you down, and kick your ass.  _ “The placeholder is ‘The Phantom Thieves of Heart : Shadows of Tokyo’.” 

Lala pulled back a little, “maybe you wanna workshop that with Ohya, with the year she’s spent in culture and entertainment, I’m sure she’ll be able to help you come up with a...snappier title.” 

“I’d rather she keep getting me meetings with people than turn my book into a magazine headline.” 

“Speaking of people, it’s almost time for the regulars to show up, hurry and get your apron on.” 

“Yes ma’am!” 

For the next hour, the Crossroads was all rattling glasses and off-key singing to accompany the low hum of jazz in the background. Mishima ignored the stares he got from various guests throughout the night, throwing himself fully into filling any food orders, as well as getting water and oolong teas to those who were drinking more than their fill. Lala was constantly beside him working in overdrive, pouring glasses and chatting up a storm with customers. 

“Look Lala, I know you're not into economics, but hear me out-"

“-yeah, I had to leave the job site today, my boss is nuts, even by my standards, you know he-"

“-c’mon Lala, I’ve had a long day of dealing with idiots, so now  _ I  _ get to be the idiot, now show me that trick with the-"

“Lalaaaahh! Two moaw glashesh, I’m countin’ eight fingrsh on thish hand, sho I won't drop  theesh onesh!”

          Once all their guests were situated, Mishima returned to the counter, the sheer number of them intimidating him. The bar certainly didn't look big during its off hours, but when filled to capacity, it held quite the crowd. Once he was back behind the counter, he found an absolute mountain of glasses and plates in the sink. Lala’s ability to hold so many conversations at once was nothing short of sorcery as far as Mishima was concerned, but the woman couldn’t be bothered to do dishes for the life of her, it was like she let it pile up throughout the week just for him.  _ And you just let it happen Mishima. At least the pay’s good _ . 

Eventually the flow of customers tapered off, and Lala was wandering between tables, no doubt dropping her tidbits of nurturing wisdom, leaving the bar to him. There were a handful of folks drinking alone tonight, and it was his job to alleviate that problem.  _ Let's see, sweaty man, seems a little intense, better leave him be. That guy's gone twelve rounds with a single malt, might be good for a laugh. And my third choice is a woman, naturally. Well Mishima, suck it up and go for it, maybe Lala’s right and you’ll learn something.  _ Mishima’s gaze fell on one lonely looking drinker, a slightly older woman, probably in her early thirties, dressed in a red and violet evening gown. It was part of his job to chat up anyone that Lala couldn’t get to, so at least he had a solid ice breaker. He sucked in a deep breath to steel his nerves, and approached. 

“How are we tonight Madame? Anything I can get for you?” 

A pair of soft hazel eyes jerked up from a glass of wine to give him a once over.  _ Crap, she’s kinda cute.  _ “I could use a tall drink of water,” she told him, flashing a dazzling smile. 

“Coming right up!” Thrilled to be able to fill any order without needing to flag down Lala, Mishima had a chilled glass down before the woman in seconds. She blinked, frowning at him from across the counter. He felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead as he glanced expectantly between the woman and the glass.  _ Crap, that must've been code for something _ , he despaired, but in a flash her smile was back, one that Mishima sheepishly returned. 

“You a new part-timer?” He nodded, and the woman’s smile broadened, her eyes far less restrained now, as they glided over him with interest. “It’s like Lala is catering directly to me, bringing me all these gems!” 

“Er…’gems’, ma’am?” 

“You see dear, I meet a  _ lot  _ of men in my line of work, so I pick up on a lot of points that make a man, points I might be willing to pass on to gems such as yourself, to make you really  _ shine _ .” 

_ Getting  _ less  _ cute _ . “Ah,” Mishima replied cautiously, trying to get a better grasp of the situation. Her hair was tied up in an intricate bun, but one that had come half undone, her disheveled brown tresses falling messily down her temples. Her outfit was an elegant single strap dress, though the strap hovered very loosely on her shoulder now. And at the end of the day, here she was, drinking the night away in a bar in the Red Light District.   _ A lot of men, huh?  _ “What business are you in exactly?” he asked, heeding Lala’s advice that when all else fails, just let them talk, pass no judgement, and they’ll open up. 

“I’m a party and event planner, corporate gigs, birthdays, luaus, that type of thing, so I meet all kinds of people. What did you  _ think  _ I did?” She teased, giggling as Mishima turned scarlet. “You know, I see potential in you, uh….” She trailed off, looking at him expectantly.

“Mishima. And ‘potential’? Is that what you call it?” 

She giggled again, “well Mishima, a sense of humor is very good to have.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes,  _ humor, right, ha ha.  _ “Yes, you have potential, it’s just buried...deeper than most.”  _ Ouch _ . “The first thing I’d look into is getting a new wardrobe.” 

“My clothes?” Mishima tugged lightly at the hem of the loose shirt, it was one of his favorites. 

“Of course, a proper man takes pride in his appearance, not just wearing...whatever fits.” The woman took a quick sip of wine, failing to disguise the look of contempt she gave his outfit. “Besides, what’re you trying to hide? You’re not bony, you’ve got muscle on those arms, I’d wager that you  _ must _ play a sport.”

“Well, I  _ am  _ part of the volleyball team at Shujin,” he admitted, blushing in embarrassment, unconsciously puffing his chest out a bit. 

“Oh,” she paused, a worried look on her face. “Shujin, that’s...the team that used to be coached by that olympic medalist, right?” 

Mishima deflated. “Yeah, Kamoshida, he’s…”  _ Rotting in a cell like he deserves. The reason I dress like this, trying to hide old bruises. The reason I’m a coward.  _ “He’s somebody I was too scared to stand up to, the reason I never wanna be weak again. It's part of why I'm working here, I wanna be a better person,” he finally managed, confident in his answer. The woman’s frown refused to budge,  _ crap, that got a lot heavier than it should've, what would Akira say? He's normally good at breaking tension, ‘course he’s also much more charming than me, and thinking for too long is making this silence  _ really  _ awkward.  _ “Maybe that means it's fate that brought us both here tonight.” 

…. 

_ This is harder than I thought it'd be. _

The woman smiled softly, taking another sip of wine. “Well, a man who shows humility is...charming in his own way, I suppose. You’re definitely an interesting one Mishima, quite different from that other part-timer.” 

_ She must mean Akira. I wonder if she could tell me what he did for Ohya, since Lala refuses to tell me.  _ “Ma’am, you wouldn’t happen to-” 

“Maria! So good to see you again, how did the Kuze party go?” Mishima let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in as Lala approached, maybe she really  _ could  _ read minds. Regardless, anything to save him from himself with the way this conversation was going.

“About as well as you’d think Lala, that whole family drinks like a horde of demons,” the woman, Maria, huffed. “I couldn’t even cut loose a little and dance, not a person in the building who could keep on their own two feet for more than a minute. Turns out that men  _ can  _ get too rowdy, so that’s that theory out the window.” She sighed, her whole body slumping against the counter. Glancing up at Mishima, her eyes crinkled in delight, “what about you Mishima, do you dance?” 

“Me!?” Um…” Mishima looked to Lala for support, seeing only amusement in her eyes.  _ C’mon Lala, help me out here! _

“Sweetie, can you take this tray to the gentleman in back for me? I wanna catch up with Maria here.” Mishima mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to Lala, snatching the tray out of her hands. 

“Keeping him a mystery isn’t going to keep me away Lala, you of all people should know that. Oh Mishimaaa~ Do hurry back now, you hear?” 

Emboldened as the mantle of conversationalist was lifted from his shoulders, Mishima smiled at her, the words coming effortlessly now. “Whatever you say, Miss Maria, I’m here to please.” 

“Hoho!” She cheered, taking another drink, “there’s  _ definitely  _ a wolf under all that wool, you are going to be something  _ special _ .  Lala, where do you find these boys?” 

“They find their way to me, probably since I’m not always trying to compare them, looking for some ‘perfect guy’.” Lala gave Mishima a wink, one hand coming out of her robes to shoo him off. “You  _ know  _ that’s the biggest reason you can’t keep a man for more than-” 

Sucking in a breath, free of Maria’s...unique company, he noted the drinks he was carrying, a whiskey and two waters.  _ Thanks Lala _ . Breaktime...sorta. Pulling out a notepad from his back pocket, he maneuvered to one of the back tables where a lone businessman with a bowl cut sat, idly tapping away at his phone.  

“Excuse me, are you Keiji, sir?” Mishima probed, one eye flitting over his notes while he set the drinks down. 

“That’s correct, which makes you Mishima,” the man smiled pleasantly, gesturing to the open seat across from him. “I’m afraid I didn’t order whiskey though, just a water. I can’t stick around for too long you see, I didn’t tell my wife I was stopping here on my way home.” 

“It’s on the house sir, as thanks for agreeing to this,” Mishima told him, perplexed that Lala had confused an order. “SInce we don’t have much time though, let’s get right into it. The Phantom Thieves helped you by changing your boss’ heart, a…..Shinsuke Kishi, right?” 

Keiji took a sip of water, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wow, you’re pretty well informed. I’m impressed, I mean, I didn’t even post his name on the forums, yet the Phantom Thieves got to him within a few days, and now even a kid like  _ you  _ figured it out? Wait...are you-” 

“I’m just a big supporter of what they do. With this whole scene with Okumura, I wanted to make a documentary about them, so people don’t forget all the good they’ve done. I’ve been stalking through the Phantom Aficionado site for all the material I can find.” Mishima gave the man a confident smile, he’d gotten good at telling that story after all, he couldn’t evade attention like Akira did, so he couldn’t afford to let slip how closely he was linked to the Phantom Thieves. Keiji seemed to accept the explanation, nodding along attentively. “Of course there’s only so much I can get off the internet, so I’d like to hear your side of things sir. What business are you in?” 

“I’m a sales associate working for a big soft drinks manufacturer.” 

“Well that’s definitely unique. Do they let you take home any free soda?” 

“That they do,” Keiji laughed, patting his small pot belly happily, “a benefit of the job I take  _ full  _ advantage of.” 

“How long have you been working with your company?” 

“About twelve years now, and I’d been working under Shinsuke for five.”  

“I see. Five years is a long time, what exactly did your boss do to you that he needed a change of heart?” 

“He would always take credit for the things that his subordinates did, and he went around telling people that we were worthless. It kept anybody from moving up in the company, it meant the higher ups worked us to the bone because they thought we just weren’t accomplishing  _ anything _ , it drove so many people to quit because of the stress.” 

“That’s horrible.” Mishima took a sip of water,  _ five years of being called worthless, how wasn’t he fired?  _ “Okay, so I realize at the start of their campaign, nobody really believed in them, since it seemed like it was just a high school rumor. When exactly was it that you started to believe in the Phantom Thieves enough to post on the Phan si-er, Phantom Aficionado website?” 

“Honestly?” Keiji rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost guilty, “it wasn’t that I believed in them, I was just desperate by that point, and even then I didn’t post his name, I was just sorta...venting I guess.” 

“You posted anonymously?” 

“Yeah, in fact I think the only person besides my wife who I told my boss’ name to was La-” Keiji stopped himself, turning towards the bar where Lala was still entertaining Maria, “you don’t think that Lala is…” Mishima took several deep breaths to keep from laughing, then shook his head. “Huh, maybe it’s my wife then,” the man joked. 

“So what got you so desperate that after five whole years of this treatment, you finally needed to say something?” 

“I posted on the website during the Medjed incident, the higher-ups weren't really concerned with the threat, the company just wanted to capitalize on the countrywide panic while competitors scrambled to protect their assets, so they moved up the production of a new soda brand. We were in charge of throwing together an ad campaign. You’re looking at the creator of the Santa Soda slogan.” 

“Wow! That’s uh… ‘Everyday’s a gift, so enjoy the present with Santa’, right?” Keiji nodded, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “Huh, y’know for anything else, I’d say that was a super situational slogan, but this whole year’s been kinda crazy.” 

“It certainly has. Thing is, Kishi claimed credit for my work, just like with everything else. And they were gonna promote him for it! The higher-ups were gushing over how sales were up nearly fifteen percent.” 

“BULLSHIT!” 

“GEEZ!” Mishima jumped in his seat as a manicured hand crashed down on their table, the familiar scent of jasmine perfume fighting a losing battle to alcohol assaulted his senses. Frowning up at the source of the odor, Mishima wondered how many people he killed in a previous life to deserve this.  _ At least five _ . “What the hell Ohya?” 

“He’s feeding ya bullshit Mishy,” the reporter claimed, dropping that god-forsaken nickname in the middle of a crowded bar. Undeterred by his hand gestures, trying to subtly wave her off, she continued, “a news article’s one thing, but for a documentary like you’re doin’? Ya need  _ facts _ , facts that the Second Maid Man over here isn’t being forthcoming with.” 

“Ohya, this is an interview, not an interrogation. Go bother Lala and leave this to me, okay?” 

“Already did, she sent me over here. Good thing she did too, you’re doing such a fantastic job already, you’re asking the real cutting questions there Mishy. MOVE!” Dragging a chair over to the table, Ohya shouldered him aside, kicked up her feet, then grabbed the glass of whiskey. “Leave it to Lala, the beautiful bitch cracked the top shelf stuff for me!” 

“Is she a....” Keiji paused as the reporter completely drained her glass in a single go, “friend of yours?” 

“She’s...my partner,” Mishima told him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Try not to mind her drinking too much, she’s got the tolerance of a man three times her size.”  _ Alright Ohya, come into my interview, treat me like a child, let's see how a gin-tlewoman reporter does it. _

“And for sassy, unappreciative Phan-boys, I’ve got the strength of one too,” Ohya remarked, slapping the back of Mishima’s head. “Now, where were we?” 

“ _ WE _ ,” Mishima growled, drawing an invisible line between himself and Keiji, “were just covering how his boss stole credit for his sales, and if I understand it correctly, the idea of him finally getting an even higher seat in the company over a slogan encouraged him to reach out for the Phantom Thieves’ help. Is that about right?” Keiji nodded, his eyes nervously darting to Ohya, noting her unimpressed glare. 

“First and last parts I believe, nobody fired him despite Shinsuke Kishi telling people how useless he was, so he was definitely pulling in some juicy sales figures that Kishi couldn’t let go of.”

“How  _ long _ have you been listening?”

“Since ‘do they let you take home free soda,’ have I told ya that you're  _ killing _ it by the way?”

“Just figured I’d ask,” Mishima murmured, jotting down some additional notes,  _ right, the boss would be the one to protect him from getting fired, so long as he stayed a golden goose. _

“And for the last part, the asshole getting promoted after five years meant that Keiji here found the courage to stand up to him, at the bottom of a bottle, calling him out anonymously, on an online forum.” Keiji tugged at the neck of his shirt, seeming to shrink in his seat beneath Ohya’s critical analysis. “It’s the middle that’s a load of crap, boss took credit for  _ A  _ slogan, not  _ his _ , at best he was in the same room when that slogan got written. A room full of people surrounded by cups of coffee at four in the morning, cracking stupid jokes because they’re all exhausted and terrified of the call that might come any minute from somebody more important than them that’ll put them out on the curb if they can’t make a deadline.  _ That’s  _ the environment that cranks out stupid slogans like that, a kid like you wouldn’t know that, so Keiji here thought he could pull one over on you, make himself look good. You’re a better than average salesman who belongs exactly where he is on the corporate chain because he’s also a colossal coward, that about right Keiji?” Gulping loudly, Keiji averted his eyes, then slowly nodded. 

“Christ Ohya,” Mishima muttered, impressed but still stunned by her crass delivery as he made hasty adjustments to the notes he’d taken. “I take it that the room you’re talking about is one you’ve been in a few times before?” 

“I catch enough crap from Akira and Lala, I’m not taking any from you,” she warned, staring hard at her empty glass. “I’m gonna need more of these to even _want_ to continue this conversation. Well,’ the woman shot to her feet, her indignant sneer replaced by a wide smile as she glanced between Keiji and Mishima, “since you don’t want my help, and clearly don’t _need_ it since you’ve had this interview so well in hand Mishy, I’ll be at the bar.” Taking an extravagant bow, Ohya walked away, leaving Mishima to pick up the pieces of a shattered Keiji. _Eight people, I killed at least eight people. That constitutes a massacre, right?_

“She’s a bit...yeah,” he sighed, “maybe it’s best that we do only one more question.” Keiji didn’t respond, seeming exceptionally pale suddenly. “Um...Keiji? Sir?” 

“Wha-oh, right, one more question. Sure. The wife’s probably...wondering...where I am.” 

Mishima took a long gulp of water, trying to muster up his inner drunkard reporter. “As somebody who’s been helped by the Phantom Thieves in the past, do you believe that they’re guilty of killing Kunikazu Okumura? 

“Yes.” Mishima managed to control his expression, passing no judgement as he set to work transcribing the statement. “So I’m a coward, but I’m not an idiot, Shinsuke might’ve been a horrible person, but the fact is that what he did  _ worked _ , brutal tactics are just more effective. In business especially, everyone starts out with good intentions, wanting to do right by their customers, partners, even their competitors. Once you get big enough though, you can’t keep micromanaging everything, you need to start making bigger decisions that end up hurting people, and the best you can do is try to make the ones that do the  _ most  _ good. I guess even the Phantom Thieves aren’t immune to that, for them, changing somebody’s heart must be tough work, but killing him off like that shows how nobody’s safe, maybe get people to start giving  _ themselves  _ up. I dunno.” 

“So would you say that the Phantom Thieves are justified in their decision?” Keiji didn’t respond, resting his head in his hands. That was as far as he’d be able to take this interview. Mishima offered his hand out with a smile, “thank you so much for your time sir, you’ve been very helpful.” 

“Right, sure thing,” Keiji breathed, shaking Mishima’s hand. “Is uh...another whiskey, off the table?” 

Mishima laughed, “I’ll bring it right over, on the house of course.” 

 

“I hope you know that you’re not getting paid tonight, that whiskey doesn’t come cheap after all, sweetheart.” Mishima frowned as he returned to the counter, taking a seat beside Ohya as he shucked off his apron, the tension instantly flooding out of his muscles. 

“Can’t you just take it from the royalties I’ll get from my book?” 

“Haha, YES!” Ohya whooped, throwing her hands up in victory as Lala scowled at her. Thankfully the bar had finally emptied out, or the drunk woman would be turning heads with how obnoxiously loud she was being. “‘Atta boy Mishy! Now you’re talkin’ like a writer.” 

“Celebrating victory from the comfortable home of the starting line,” Lala noted. “ _ This  _ is why I want him speaking to other customers, not just you.” 

“And he has been, it’s been helping the boy build confidence, a month ago this kid wouldn’t have had the balls to be that sassy out loud. That said, I take credit for at  _ least  _ half that transformation, I give only the best bad influence for my favorite part-timer after all,” Ohya raised her glass in a toast. It took her a few too many seconds to notice that Mishima didn’t have a glass. “Lala! Get the boy a drink, chop chop!” 

Mishima eyed her suspiciously. “I figured Akira was your favorite, I bet you don’t harass  _ his  _ customers like that.” 

“Akira?  _ Hell  _ no,” she scoffed, “refuses to drink with me, even when Lala ain't around, keeps trying to offer me  _ coffee _ instead. I haven't given up on corrup-er,  _ convincing _ you to join me for a drink though. You're always so nervous when ya talk, you're holdin’ back on me Mishy, a few glasses of Dom Perignon outta get ridda that censor!”

“Ohya, the censor exists for a reason, you don't wanna hear what I  _ actually  _ think about you.” Lala laughed at that, clearly enjoying herself by just observing, conspicuously  _ not  _ bothering with the piles of dishes in the sink. “And c’mon Ohya,  _ that's  _ your criteria for your favorite, which one of us is more likely to be a drinking buddy?”

“Well, you're fun to hang out with too, Mishy, not like Akira, boy’s too sharp for his own good, every interaction we have feels too much like we’re butting heads.” 

“What would you call what  _ we  _ do?” 

“Bustin’ eachother’s chops! It’s what friends do after all.” 

“Friends...is a word,” he remarked. 

“And it’s the right one,” Lala added, setting down a glass of water for him. “You can deny it all you like, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody as comfortable around Ohya as you are.” Both Mishima and Ohya groaned. 

“Thanks  _ mom _ ,” they said in unison, before looking at each other with terror in their eyes. “Oh god.” Lala started cracking up at that, eagerly listening for a third joint remark. 

“Alright Mishima,” Ohya coughed, a fine rosy dusting to her cheeks as the alcohol probably started to hit her. “This woman’s strong arming me with free high end booze to stay, since you apparently need to talk to me so bad, so talk.” 

“Lemme guess,” Mishima droned, looking at Lala, “that’d be  _ free-to-me _ booze, that’s  _ also  _ coming out of my pay, right?” 

“Out of your  _ royalties _ ,” Lala corrected with a wicked grin, “better get your money’s worth while she’s still coherent then.” 

“Right, hey Ohya,” he began, not even looking at the reporter, “ready to tell me what the Phantom Thieves did to help you?” 

“Not even  _ close  _ to drunk enough.” 

Mishima sighed, “thought not. Well in that case, I’ll settle for information on the guy I asked you to look into.” 

“Who guy?” Ohya asked, giving a blank stare.  _ For cryin’ out loud… _

“The real estate agent from Yongen-Jaya?” No recognition in those brown eyes. “Trying to buy up the old theater there? Threatening people’s lives and livelihoods? Works for Sugawa Real Estate? Gave you  _ literally _ everything but his friggin’ Individual Number and all I asked for was his name,  _ THAT  _ guy!”

“It’s  _ virtually _ , not ‘literally’ everything,” Ohya corrected him, grimacing, “this book’s gonna suck.” He waited several seconds for something more, but got nothing out of Ohya as she continued casually sipping whiskey. He cleared his throat. “What? Oh, right,  _ that  _ guy. I forgot you did this for Akira.” How this drunk had figured out his connection to the Phantom Thieves so quickly still baffled him. Thankfully Akira vouched for her, so with any luck there was nothing to worry about. “You’re not gonna believe this.”  _ Twelve, twelve people, I have killed at  _ least  _ three families in a past life _ . 

“You didn’t get a name.” 

“I  _ did _ ,” Ohya protested, “I wrote it down somewhere, I just…” she patted all of her pockets, then winced, “forgot it.” 

Mishima massaged his temples, keeping his breathing even. “That’s fine. It  _ is _ , it's totally fine,” he muttered, trying to reassure himself more than present company. “It's been a good day, I got an interview, that’ll probably be worth a few...entire sentences in the final copy. I’ve gotten my first experience with debt on account of somebody else’s drinking problem. And I got chatted up by a man eater of a woman whose highest compliment was that I have potential, it’s just buried  _ unnaturally _ deep.” He sighed, standing up from his bar stool, “I’m gonna...head home Lala, take care. Ohya,” at least she had the decency to look like she was sorry, “try to at least get on the right train when you head home this time.” 

…

Ohya grumbled into her whiskey, eyes downcast, refusing to be held by Lala’s judgemental silence, searching for the words to break it. “Only took the wrong train because that damn girl mixed them up on me.” 

“You were arguing with a video ad for that idol Risette, in the middle of the station,” Lala reminded her, putting the last of the collected glasses into the sink, looking at the mountain of dishes, then staring longingly at the door. 

“Yet ya keep on pouring for me. Can’t you just admit that sobriety is boring Lala? You  _ live  _ off the dumb shit I do when I’m tehhhhh,” catching the bartender shaking her head, Ohya hesitated, “-levehhhh,” another shake, “-teen?” Nod.  _ Oi _ . “Thirteen rounds in huh?” She shrugged, “Well I hope it’s as fun for you as it is for me.” 

“It breaks my heart most days,” Lala told her bluntly, looking utterly crushed, “I perform, I counsel, I try to be a friend, and when all that fails I can still offer a drink to comfort folks. But when that’s  _ all  _ I can do, it hurts. So for  _ my  _ sake, can you at least tell me why you refuse to tell Mishima anything about your past? Or why you lied about forgetting the name? Anything.” 

Ohya belched, giggling to herself at the sound. “Sorry Lala, only kinda comfort I deal in’s sixty proof and up. You should try it, experience the thrill of an open bar at least once in your life.” Lala remained stone faced.  _ Okay, throw her a bone _ . “I don’t need another lap dog, you saw how clingy the last one got when I took your advice and ‘opened up’.” Lala didn’t even  _ blink _ . “I just don’t wanna talk about the Phantom Thieves so much, it’s already my job, I don’t want it to become my  _ life  _ too.”  _ Damn, this woman’s giving me  _ nothing _. I’ve talked too much about reporting, she’s starting to see through  _ my  _ bullshit _ . “I just…”  _ Screw it. _ “Can’t keep helping them Lala...the police are in on this now.” 

“You’re scared.” 

“Who  _ wouldn’t  _ be!? I mean...Okumura, the guy crushed Burger Baron, a fast food  _ juggernaut _ , down into a bite sized hostile buyout slider, by pouring money into negative press on them after that employee had a psychotic break and started getting busy with the wrong kinda buns.” 

“I thought he just got naked, that’s what the news mentioned.” 

“That’s all public tv  _ could  _ mention, I looked into it a bit more after learning what happened to Kayo, and it’s not pretty. Okumura  _ definitely  _ had a hand in that... break, mental shutdown, whatever you wanna call it,  I just don’t know  _ how _ he was involved. And now, him dying the way he did...I’d have to do some digging to confirm it, but I’ve got a hunch about who’s behind all this, and I just don’t think they can handle it.” 

“And you think Akira’s gonna just stop because he doesn’t have your support?” 

Ohya froze. She wasn’t  _ that  _ far gone, she’d said nothing about any individual, much less Akira. “What’re you talking about?” 

“The  _ other  _ reason I let you drink,” Lala told her, smiling with a childish delight that told her she was safe, “eventually you open up to me, sometimes you just forget about it come morning. One of the  _ perks _ of sobriety is you can actually guarantee discretion, so you don’t need to worry about this reaching any other ears.” 

_ Sorry Akira _ . “I just...I don’t know how they work. For once in my life, I can’t fucking figure something out, no matter how much digging I do!” Taking a deep breath, Ohya ran her hands through her hair, trying to still her nerves. “I’ve got no idea how they do what they do, which means I’ve got no idea which name I feed them ends with Akira on the news, death by suicide, shot himself in the back of the head.” 

“Ichiko…” 

“And Mishima, the kid’s just a Phan-boy, he’s an idiot  _ kid _ . The Phantom Thieves, they’re his heroes so he doesn’t believe a word of it when the news is saying that the mental shutdowns are all on them. With this documentary of his, he’s becoming more and more of a journalist, I open up to him, and he’s gonna wanna know more about those cases. He’ll do his research and  _ because  _ he’s just an idiot kid that doesn’t understand how dangerous some information can be, he’ll ask the wrong questions to the wrong person, and then he’ll end up just like Kayo.” 

Then the silence was back, only this time it didn’t feel like Lala was lording over her at least. Why couldn’t this shit just be simple for once? Lala looked about ready to speak,  _ let’s have it then, what sage wisdom do you have for your single most hopeless customer? _ “All three of you are looking for the truth, in your own way, sure there are risks involved, but that makes it important. You can’t try to get in the way of that, you need to support each other. At least give Mishima the name, so he doesn’t lose faith in you completely.” 

_ One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. Tried and true, if nothing else.  _ “Yes mom,” Ohya muttered softly. 

“Great. Now that that’s sorted, can I pour you another, or are you tapping out for tonight?” 

“Depends, you willing to walk me to the station later, make sure I’m not accosted by any more digital women?” 

“Sure,” Lala chuckled, “just this once though, after that you’ve gotta start trying to control your drinking more.” 

“Then here’s one to procrastination!” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there ya have it folks, the answer to the question nobody had, 'what're Mishima and Ohya up to right now?' As somebody who was lukewarm at best to both of these characters, I gotta say, coming out the other end of writing this chapter, I think they're some of my favorites now, and hopefully after reading it I've swayed some of you as well. This was just something that popped into my head about two weeks ago that I hammered out in about three days, and I'm really happy with it, and hopeful I can keep up that working pace because....there's been an incident.  
> Through a tragic cavalcade of kerfuffles, a certain three year old niece of mine was left to her own devices on my computer a few days ago, and grew very fond, in a very short time, of the delete key, and used it on several important papers of mine, some of which were chapters of this. Naturally I didn't make copies of any of these, because silly me, I figured, well _I'm_ not a total idiot, and I _almost_ never leave my laptop unattended, so why would I? Thankfully I hand write the first few pages of everything I make, just to get my thoughts in order, so I'm not gonna be totally lost in recreating them, but the next chapter is probably gonna take a bit longer to put out. At least now I won't have to wonder if I revised them properly, so, silver lining.  
>  As always, thank you for taking the time to read through all this, and if you could leave your thoughts on how I'm doing, I'm always looking to improve, so I'd be much obliged. Enjoy your day everybody.


	5. Raising Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Phantom Thieves try to make sense of their leader.

**November 1st, 2:57 PM**

**Central Street, Shibuya**

"Think fast kid." Akira barely registered the shout, his mind still hazy from his latest trip to the Velvet Room, but his hand shot out on pure instinct. He grabbed the object that came flying at him, but found himself fumbling with the irregular shape. Slipping through both his hands, he stuck his foot out, balancing the object perfectly on his shoe. Making sure to exhale evenly to dispel the knot in his chest, he slowly reached down to grab the handgun, mindful that he didn't lose his balance and drop it anyway. "Alright boys, the part-timer's here, either buy somethin' or get the fuck outta my store."

Of the two regulars that normally loitered around the store, the chubby one was the one who turned to make a fuss, his cheeks ruddy with frustration. "What the hell're you on our case about today, Iwai?"

"Sorry, what was that?" Iwai swung his feet down off the counter, not even looking at the man as he regarded Akira, an entire half of his face tugged up in a smirk, which was practically him jumping for joy with how rarely he emoted, that meant he was excited about something. "Don't sound like a wallet comin' out, so the door's right there. Hell, because I love my customers so much, I even made it handicap accessible, so you can still hobble outta here with my boot jammed in your ass."

Grumbling angry curses under their breath, the two regulars walked to the door that Akira was still standing in front of. "You work here part-time, huh? You gonna open the door for us?"

Akira sighed, mindful that his hands were twitching, tiny electric pulses seeming to course through them, a mere phantom of what he'd just been through, but one that he couldn't seem to dispel. His eyes flickered briefly to the men before him, lingering only for a second to make his observations. Entitled, easy to anger, hung out here most days just to be around like minded people, rarely buying anything in the process, always oddly 'waiting on a paycheck' to pick up the things they were looking at. They'd be back.

Akira stepped to the side. "For paying customers, I'd gladly open it." Folding his hands behind his back, he stared pointedly at the door, then up to their beady eyes, watching what little genuine fight the men had burn out. Casting another bitter glare at Iwai, the men shouldered their way out, allowing Akira to flip the store's sign to closed.

"Nice one kid," Iwai clapped, clearly entertained, "those two can be more trouble than they're worth, but they're harmless. That said, don't ever talk to any of my other customers like that, we clear?"

The ex-yakuza's voice stayed friendly, yet Akira couldn't seem to decipher who Iwai meant would be dangerous in that situation, the customers, or him. "Don't start a battle you aren't prepared to see through to the end, we've had this conversation before. Now, you forget how guns work since I last saw you? Whole point's that you don't have to throw shit at the dude you don't like. Y'know, if I'd dropped this thing, your ass'd be in hot water, I paid good money for this."

"Oh yeah?" Iwai leaned over the counter, shooting Akira a challenging smirk," what would you do, take my heart?"

"Don't put the idea in my head." Akira held Iwai's gaze, unblinking even as those grey eyes narrowed. The store was silent, save for the dull drone of the heater in the back office.

"Hah!" Iwai gave his odd bark of a laugh, and Akira joined him, unable to keep a straight face. "Why don'cha give her a once over, see what ya think." Akira stared down at the gun, hefting its unusually heavy body while mindlessly inspecting it, eager for the familiar process to help keep his mind off his spasming hands. Discharge the magazine, inspect the chamber to ensure it was empty, examine the barrel, then reload and cock it. He stopped himself just short of dropping it straight into his bag, mindful of the contents, before he recalled that his bag was absent one cat today, for some reason known only to said feline. "Before I remembered that I hired a friggin' ninja to work for me, I  _wanted_ it to drop to show off that new casing I fitted it with." Turning the gun over in his hands, Akira noticed that the material was definitely different now, and the weapon had a sleek matte black finish. "A bit heavier now, but with that upgrade it'll give ya less kickback while putting out better stopping power, plus there's no chance of it getting busted, you could take a hammer to that thing and the hammer would break."

Akira's hand clenched up as another shock ran up his arm, a faint click resounding from the gun as he involuntarily pulled the trigger. Not missing a beat before the hawk-eyed dealer, Akira gave him a goofy smile, "so, does it fire bigger bullets now?"

Iwai deadpanned, blinking rapidly as his brow furrowed. "No kid, it'll never  _not_ fire nine millimeters. Why the hell do you ask me that,  _every single time_  you come in?"

Akira grinned, "don't worry about it, it's just a….really stupid joke."

"Geez kid, I ever tell ya how weird you are? Whatever, whaddya think?"

"I think you've outdone yourself again Iwai," Akira said, impressed with the newest addition to his arsenal.

"Damn straight I've outdone myself, I was up all night messin' with that one, some of my best fuckin' work right there. Regulars'll be real happy to see something like that on the special menu."

"So I'm just a guinea pig for you to make your new custom parts?" Mindful that he'd said that in the most dull tone possible, Akira remembered to smirk, his eyes darting briefly towards the Velvet Room door, still visible from the shop's front window.

"And you've made me a real good chunk o' change because of it, just like a good part-timer should." Frowning, Iwai popped a spent lollipop stick from his lips, digging through his coat for a new one. "But I'm guessing you didn't come just to listen to me jerk myself off, so whaddya need today?"

"Oh, right. Iwai, you know I love ya right?"

"Where the hell're ya goin' with this kid?"

"I uh," Akira rubbed the back of his head, "picked up some equipment from another source, I was hoping that you could inspect- shit!" Unable to control the jitters in his hands, Akira verified that the new gun  _was_ in fact drop resistant. Scrambling to pick it up, he quickly deposited the weapon into his bag, rifling through for what he was looking for.

"Hey kid?" Iwai's rough voice snapped Akira to attention, seeing the new lollipop hovering just beside the ex-yakuza's mouth, his eyes trained squarely on Akira. "Come in the back for a sec." Raising an eyebrow, the teen was offered no explanation. Taking a deep breath, opening and closing his hands repeatedly to try to regain some level of mastery over them, he hopped the counter, following after. Some good honest shady dealing would do his nerves some good, something mechanical to put him back in control.

Entering the cramped office, Akira found Iwai reclining in a chair, a small black box in his hand. "What's up?"

"Take a seat," Iwai told him, gesturing to a clear spot on the desk, hastily moved invoices and bills haphazardly strewn around it, some having fallen onto the floor. Akira was shocked, Iwai never let him sit while he was back here, it was always right down to work, normally either playing janitor or secretary to put the pig sty in order. Deciding that it was probably best not to ask, Akira reclined against the desk, savoring the warmth radiating off the heater. Iwai smacked the black box against his open palm, producing a cigarette from within. "Smoke?" He asked, holding it out at arms length in a clear offering.

Akira frowned. "I thought you said you quit, why're you carrying those around?"

"'Course I quit," Iwai snarled, genuinely irked it seemed. "You think I'd expose Karou to this, get him hooked on this shit? Nah," he sighed, cooling down as quickly as he'd gotten angry. "Thing is, people like to think they can cut shit like booze or drugs outta their lives as easy as one, two, three. But it ain't that easy, the urge is always there, you just learn to manage it," to illustrate, Iwai finally pulled the lollipop out, popping it in his mouth. "Most people just cut their exposure, keep it outta their lives 'cause they're afraid they can't handle it. A real man though, he don't shy away, real man'll face that temptation every day.  _That's_ why I carry it around." There was a glimmer of genuine pride in the man's eyes as he shook the custom case. "So I'll ask again, you want one?"

Akira stared down at the cigarette with a grin, "sorry man, didn't mean to step on your toes. I'll pass though, those things'll kill ya."

"I've seen anxiety do a lot worse to a man than smoking could," Iwai commented, eyeing Akira's hands, which had mercifully stopped twitching. "Now you gonna tell me what's got ya so strung out? You're killin' my good mood here."

"What're you talking about?" Akira asked nervously, already cursing himself for not waiting longer to come to the store.

Iwai tucked the cigarettes away in his coat, folding his arms. "Kid, everyday of my life I've had to sniff out cops, killers, and liars. I smell one of the above right now, and I got this feeling Okumura wasn't your hit. Now c'mon, I've seen junkies shake less, so talk."

_Dammit_. Deflection was off the table, which meant he needed a convincing lie, one to fool a yakuza of all things. A  _former_ yakuza who was looking to get him to open up, to comfort him, one that was regularly interacting with a teen Akira's age… "Iwai, do I  _look_ like a thief to you?"

The man frowned, caught off guard. "With those glasses? No, you look like a nerd, I still can't wrap my head around all the shit you apparently do while looking like  _that_. What does this have to do with you buggin' out on me?"

"It's my girlfriend," Akira huffed, trying to look defeated. "She wants her parents to finally meet me, which as you can probably guess, is freaking me out. Given...what I do, I'm worried the criminal aspect'll come across, and they'll make us break things off."

Scratching his stubbly cheek, Iwai chuckled. "Shit kid,  _that's_ your silver bullet? You stare down a crime boss with a loaded glock and yet you crack over some  _chick's_ mom and dad?"

"Oh come on," Akira huffed defensively, "you trying to say that Munehisa Iwai never fell in love?"

"Sure I did, kid, I just don't see what the problem is. The folks like you, win-win, they think you're a crook, ya double down, make off with their daughter. Girls love a bad boy after all."

Akira couldn't help but laugh. " _Please_ tell me this is a conversation you've had with Karou, advising him to make off with another father's daughter?"

"Pfft, I  _wish_  this was a conversation I could have with him, all his problems are entrance exams, of course I need a daily reminder how dumb I am."

"You're gonna be the  _best_ dad, "Akira joked, "don't offer any of the hard-earned skills developed from a life of hiding your identity, y'know, learn the parents' jobs to gauge their expectations, learn which is the sympathetic face, nah, fuck that, just steal the daughter."

"Well I'm raisin' my son to be a man, not a friggin' peach. Still…" Iwai cupped his chin, a sad expression crossing his features, "he ever comes to me, I'm gonna have to be able to give him some actual wisdom, won't I? Shit, I guess it's too late to return him, huh?" Iwai sneered as Akira laughed, but found his grin quickly returning. "So, we uh...good here?" He asked, looking Akira up and down for any more ticks.

Strangely enough, seeing the stony gun dealer trying so hard for his adopted son, Akira  _did_ feel better. He was willing to face anything to protect what he cared about. You find ways to deal with them, but in the end, a man faces his demons. "Yeah," Akira nodded slowly, "yeah, we're good."

"Great," a relieved smirk crossed Iwai's face, "now I wanted to ask ya before, ya given any thought to my offer?"

"You're serious about that," Akira sighed, it wasn't a question, he knew Iwai better than that.

"You know it, you risked it all for us, far as I'm concerned, that makes you an Iwai now, may as well make it official. Already got a guy who'll do it for ya too, same place even," Iwai said, tapping a finger to his neck.

"I'm flattered, really, but that's a family thing, I couldn't. Can we just get down to why I'm here?"

"I take it you're droppin' somethin' for me to look at?" Akira nodded. "Then sure, I'll take a look at anything you've got.  _IF,_ you agree. Ya don't have to do it today, but ya gotta come back for whatever you're droppin' off, we'll take care of ya then. Deal?"

"You realize we literally  _just_ had a discussion about how I'm trying  _not_ to look like a delinquent, right?" Iwai's grin widened, but he said nothing. Akira sucked in a sharp breath, gently cradling the nape of his neck, he couldn't believe he was about to agree to this, but Iwai was vital to the Phantom Thieves' operations, and he could be a stubborn old dog when he wanted to be, he'd keep finding ways to bring this up. "Fine, I'll wear the Gecko with honor." Iwai couldn't smother his smile fast enough to escape notice, making the teen snicker. Rooting through his bag, Akira got down to business. "I need you to take a look at this."

…..

**November 1st, 2:25 PM**

**Courthouse Lobby, Kasumigaseki**

Heads, tails, heads, over.

End over end over end over end.

Akechi pinched the five hundred yen coin between his thumb and forefinger, tossing it across his lap and into his left hand, then resumed rolling it across the knuckles of that hand. When he was in public, he was Tokyo's beloved Detective Prince, the picture of charisma and confidence. His hands were either folded politely, or gesticulating to make some point or another, ever the instruments he used to put up a convincing song and dance. But in these quieter moments, in the pleasure of an empty room, free of his audiences, he could allow his hands to fidget.

Tails, heads, tails, over. Tails, heads, tails, over.

Once more he scanned the room, eyes trailing slowly to the edges of his peripheral vision, his head moving even slower so as to not seem like he was searching for eavesdroppers. Content that he was still alone, he let his left hand flip the coin on autopilot, taking out his phone with his right, pulling up his group chat with the Phantom Thieves. School was out, and now he was simply awaiting the message from Akira calling them to Leblanc. Still nothing, no activity since Friday, after their first official excursion. It was going to be today, it  _had_ to be today. Studying the group's methods during their Okumura heist, they worked themselves ragged to navigate Palaces as quickly as possible, and with their very lives on the line here, they wouldn't deviate from that for Sae. He'd remained in the courthouse then, instead of venturing preemptively to the hideout, because they wouldn't  _know_  that he knew their methods and behaviors, added to that, the fact that he was meant to be a reluctant partner, meant that he couldn't play off being eager either.

Heads, tails, heads, over.

_What must they think of me?_

A beam saber and a ray gun. It was innocent, in an almost infantile way, it would seem to them that his perception of a hero was an amalgamation of everything an imaginative child found cool and inspiring. But was it  _too_ innocent? Gods, it was so  _obvious_ , and it's  _because_ it's too innocent. Those smiles and snickers, when they'd first seen his weapons of choice, what if they weren't smiles of, 'oh what a little scamp, we finally get to see the sheltered detective come out of his shell,' and instead were 'oh he's trying  _so_ hard to act like he's innocent, if only he'd waited more than five seconds after we'd all left to shoot Okumura's shadow, he might've convinced us'. He shook his head, he'd definitely jumped the gun on that hit, but they were fleeing in fear from an exploding space station, messy or not, that wouldn't be how they'd see through him. What if they weren't fooled by the poll on Okumura at all? What if they'd gone after him simply because they saw that girl in trouble? They had  _THE_ Medjed on their side, it wasn't impossible that they'd known immediately that the poll was tampered with and were just playing along. Maybe it was the cat, that worthless creature had been wandering Mementos even before the Phantom Thieves began, it was possible it had seen him while on assignment for Shido, inflicting shutdowns upon members of the faceless masses.

_I'm suspecting a goddamned cat now, what is wrong with me? They don't suspect a thing, of course_ I  _see my own weaknesses, and that's exactly why they never will, I make mistakes, I learn, my mask grows stronger. Just relax, even when you're alone, there are always eyes on you, the only difference is that you conjure them yourself._

Tails, heads, tails, over.

_I need to get out of here._ Closing the group chat, he pulled up the most recent conversation from earlier that day, hoping to get something out of the mastermind himself.

**Joker:**  Well Mr. Holmes, I trust you're adjusting well to our petty band of thieves.

**Me:** As much as I can, I'm afraid that using these powers for the express purpose of manipulation doesn't sit well with me.

**Joker:** Well I'm sorry to hear that, unfortunately we don't all possess your wellspring of willpower.

**Joker:** God in his infinite wisdom made the devil far stronger than we mere mortal men. I'm afraid most of us succumb to the temptation when given the kind of power we have now.

**Me:** I never took you for a religious man Kurusu.

**Joker:** I'm not, but I do know the devil, she's our PR manager. Gotta be said, she's doin' a shit job of it lately.

**Me:** Goodness, if you can't even trust the DEVIL, who do you turn to?

**Joker:** I know right!? I mean, I realize I sold her somebody else's soul for it, speaking of, it's been weeks since I've seen the little Phan-boy, maybe she finally gave him that heart attack he's been hoping for. Anyway, you'd expect some kind of quality assurance with that kinda price tag, dontcha think?

**Me:** There certainly should be. I can't say that I've ever seen any examples of this devil's advertisement, but it certainly is lackluster, I don't know if you're aware of this, but rumor has it that, apparently, you killed somebody.

**Joker:** You heard that too huh? Yeah, the Phantom Thieves stand against many things, pedophilia, physical abuse, plagiarism, drug trafficking, cyber terrorism, but they draw a hard line at fast food management.

**Joker:** You bring up a fantastic point though, I... have literally never read a single thing that she's written about us...I should probably do that.

**Me:** I believe we have a much more expedient method of clearing your name than resorting to the works of pen and paper.

**Joker is typing…**

Akechi shook his head, unable to fathom why he played along with this behavior. It just...seemed like the thing to do, when it became clear that he wouldn't get what he was after, better to humor him. As had happened on every previous attempt to gain an understanding of Akira Kurusu, the very second that Akechi had managed to get a serious response out of him, he'd immediately switched to his Joker persona, truly living up to that name as well. The devil was their PR manager, it takes a truly enigmatic mind to conjure a line like that. Akechi just couldn't seem to get a read on him, was that grim seriousness the real Akira? Or was it merely another mask, and Joker was the true him, unfettered now by society's shackles. It would explain why the glimpses he got were so brief, yet occurred so regularly when they spoke, it could just be the transfer student placating him, trying to adapt to the detective the same way he seemed to do with every person he encountered.

_And what is that_ power  _of his? To claim the masks of the shadows he slays, it's not like my own, it's not subjugation, then what? Does he even possess a true persona like the others do? Just what is it about this country bumpkin that makes him so special? Perhaps if he hadn't decided to leave me hanging like this, I'd have been able to get an idea._

Akira had been 'typing' for nearly forty minutes now, and the transfer student didn't exactly strike Akechi as the long form essay type. Would it be in line with his role of averse accomplice to express concern? Perhaps he could just be blunt, send a message inquiring if they'd be going today at all, that wouldn't be suspicious, would it? If he included a detail like there being a movie he wanted to attend if he wasn't needed, it would become perfectly innocent.

He'd been meaning to catch a viewing of Green Turtle, it seemed like exactly the kind of mindless superhero fun he needed right now, something to turn his brain off for a few hours. Ah, but what if somebody recognized him? They'd ask for his thoughts on the film, which would mean he'd have to actually devote his attention to it since he couldn't be honest and dismiss it as 'mindless drivel' to his fans who were probably genuinely invested in it.

Heads, tails, heads, over. Heads, tails, he-

"Akechi?"

Both his internal dialogue and rhythm broken, Akechi merely stared after the coin as it rolled free of his grasp and onto the floor, before being brought to a halt beneath a fine black heel. Sae knelt to retrieve it, a scowl lingering on her lips as she offered it back to him.

"Sae-san, last I checked you weren't working pro bono," he teased, "so I'm not sure why you seem practically offended by a five hundred yen piece." Consciously sitting a bit more rigidly in his seat as he palmed the coin, his smile came easily, Sae Niijima was entertaining enough to be around after all, messing with her was all too easy.

She seemed needled by that one, but reigned in control over her expression. "I apologize, I'm a bit on edge today, I'm wrapped up in this other case and it's...presenting difficulties."

Seeing the despondent look in her eyes, Akechi set his phone aside, folding his hands in his lap. "Perhaps I could help expedite the process? I'd very much appreciate your full efforts on the Phantom Thieves case after all."

"I'm afraid, given the fact that you were brought on specifically for the Phantom Thieves, that I can't share any details of outside cases." She sighed, smoothing out the edges of her suit jacket. "Honestly, I didn't expect to find you here, I was hoping for a bit of peace and quiet."

_That would make two of us_.

"Quiet? So you can hear your own thoughts and frustrations more clearly? If you're not making any progress as you are, then placing yourself in isolated silence isn't going to help. I think you'd benefit more from a walk and some fresh air, Sae-san."

"I…" Sae opened her mouth to protest, then seemed to think better of it. "Maybe you're right. I think they've opened up a small café a few blocks away, would you like me to bring you back a cup of coffee?"

Akechi's polite grin widened,  _far too easy_. "That would be delightful Sae-san, I take mine black."

"Alright, I'll try not to be too long."

"Take your time Sae, like I've said, stress is the-"

"-Enemy of beauty, yes, you've mentioned that. What  _would_ all your adoring fans say if they found out what a charmer you  _actually_ are?"

"I imagine they'd be upset for another week before they've moved on yet again," he mused. "They're sort of like coffee in that way, hot and impassioned enough to take your tongue off one second, then cold and indifferent the very next. That said, I still think we both enjoy our coffee hot Sae, so you'd best be off, I'm sure you'll find the open air vastly preferable to my company anyway."

Sae glared at him, weighing his response. "For somebody who's seemed especially fond of the attention from being the Detective Prince, you're oddly blasé about the public's opinion of you."

Not taking the bait, Akechi shrugged, "pressing me for information may help you feel like you're not losing your edge, but it also isn't going to bring you any closer to this case's resolution, Sae-san."

"Hmph," seeing that she wouldn't pry anything more from him, Sae offered a curt nod before wandering towards the exit. Akechi sighed, the woman had two settings, collected and uptight, or angry and catty, just one step above being made of stone, and just as interesting.

Still, it was rare that she got in any way flustered over something, it must be quite the case. Probably for the best that she didn't accept his offer, the longer she kept at it, the less he'd need to explain his lack of availability when he ventured into the Metaverse. Plus it'd be just a terrible shame if her suspect dropped dead of a heart attack or something like that.  _How could the Phantom Thieves do something like this? Seems they've embraced this side of themselves Sae, we'll make sure that they pay for what they've done_.

"Dammit." He rested his cheek in his hand, clenching his eyes shut. It was...unsettling, what only two years of working with his father had done to his perspective, what the ability to kill without leaving a trace had done to him. Got a problem? Just kill them, problem solved. "But I don't need to kill them, do I? The Phantom Thieves….stealing  _desires_ ….what kind of ludicrous, asinine,  _bullshit_?"  _But if I'd known, would I have continued working for father?_

Heads, tails, heads, over. Heads, tails, heads, over.

End over end over end over end.

"You act as if it's too late for you."

Akechi opened his eyes, folding his hands politely in his lap once more, mindful that prying eyes could pass through the lobby at any moment. The girl standing a few feet away from him was incredibly short, barely clearing eye level with Akechi while he was sitting. Dressed like a walking highlighter in comparison to the courthouse's usual patrons, she wore a bright red vest and tie over a gold dress shirt, red silk gloves, with trim black pants and sharp toed shoes. Her blond hair was cut so short that it barely reached past her ears, and her skin was a white so ghastly that Akechi wondered if it had ever seen the light of the sun. "Safie."

"Akechi," the girl's voice dropped an octave in a poor imitation of his own, "we're playing the consummate professional today I see. Alright, I can do that, I've been working on this one." Wiggling her hips as if to sit down, the girl gave a little hop, landing on thin air, her whole body hovering a foot off the floor. Squirming in her invisible seat to get comfortable, she crossed her legs daintily, then folded her own hands, mimicking his posture.

Akechi felt his blood boil as he quietly observed the impish girl across from him, trying her best to match his glowering visage, failing to contain the twitch at the corner of her mouth, threatening to crack into a grin. With high cheekbones and a sharply angular face offset by the slightest trace of baby fat, she couldn't have been a day older than Akechi himself. Of course, looks could be deceiving, not a hair on her head had changed since he'd first met her, she could be an ageless demon, around for eons, or she could be seven months old.

Every time he saw her, he almost longed for the familiar appearance of the Velvet Room door, the ghostly red archway that appeared from thin air, draped with heavy red curtains, calling him to take the stage before his otherworldly benefactor. For an entire year he'd ventured there to hone his abilities, paying any price necessary to get what he wanted. Then, something changed, Akechi still wasn't sure what, but he no longer saw those doorways dotting the city, instead he'd gained a new way to access the Velvet Room.

Because in the middle of April, Safie had sprung into existence, in this very lobby no less. "On account of a sudden doubling of my master's workload, he's taken me on as an assistant, and it would be my honor to serve you as well. Name's Safie. Safie. Sah-fih. Suh-fee. Ssssssafie. That's Afie with an S in front of it. I'll tell ya what, it's no Lavenza, but  _I_  like it." Akechi lifted an eyebrow at the girl, that voice most certainly  _not_ in his head. "Sorry-er, my  _apologies_ ," she corrected herself, her voice dropping back down to that mockingly posh imitation of his voice, "you seemed like you were  _reminiscing_ , so I  _endeavored_ to,  _discern_  what memories you, my  _vindictive_ friend, might be recalling, and could only think to the  _halcyon_ days-" she took an exceptionally long pause on that one, obviously quite pleased with herself, "-of our first interactions, so I simply wished to recreate our first encounter. I remember you seemed so  _flummoxed_ with m-"

"Safie," Akechi clenched his fists, his knuckles popping as he tried to keep his temper in check.

"Oh good," her voice bounced back to its usual whiny pitch, "you were getting tired of that too. Y'know, I can never get that voice right, and lemme just say, if I  _could_ , I wouldn't  _keep_ doing it."

"Safie!"

"You're right Akechi, I needed to hear it three times just to be sure, but that  _is_ my name."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he turned his head away, unable to continue looking into those golden eyes without feeling a tad unsettled. "Just...what does He want with me this time?"

Safie pouted, placing her hands on her hips, "I don't  _need_ Master's permission to leave." Seeing the look of doubt Akechi was giving her, she scowled, "Master's off attending to other business at the moment, he doesn't talk to me about it. But maybe I wanted to stretch my legs a bit.  _Maybe_ I wanted to see you, I know, crazy that somebody would want to see you when you're not putting on a show for them, right?" Her eyes crinkled in a devious smirk, "speaking of which, how's your new power serving you, 'Crow'?"

"I presume you're referring to Robin Hood, but 'speaking of which'?"

"Oh don't play dumb Akechi, you don't have enough experience to take on that role. Use that big detective noggin' of yours, Robin Hood, the gallant thief turned hero of the people, seeking to right a grave injustice in the world, imposed by a corrupt government, we both know that's not how you see yourself. But I know  _somebody~_ who fits that description pretty well, don't you?"

Akechi sighed, "must you always be so  _chipper_ about everything?"

"Well  _somebody's_ gotta be," hopping off her invisible chair to approach Akechi, one crimson clad finger reaching out to tap his nose, "you made yourself your first true friend, Akechi!" Growling, his hands shot out to seize the little demon's wrist, but she happily danced out of reach, "ooh, and the  _only_ true friend you'll make at this rate," she giggled to herself. "Akira!"

"Yes, I'm not brain dead Safie, I gathered that you were referring to-"

"No, you got a message from him," she informed him, standing on the tips of her toes to see the blinking light on his phone. Glaring at her one more time, Akechi opened the conversation.

**Joker:** Get your lucky neckerchief on Goro-boy, and get your ass to Leblanc, we're hittin' up the casino.

**Me:** Of course, I'll see if I can't 'steal away' from my current meeting.

As soon as he hit send, Akechi swore under his breath. "Oh, you've got it  _so_ bad," Safie crooned from over his shoulder.

"Well would you look at that, Safie, I'm afraid I have prior engagements, so I must be going." Standing up, Akechi tugged at his lapels, but didn't move to leave yet. "It's been a month since I've had the pleasure of Igor's company, what's he playing at exactly?"

Safie's smile was sad as she eyed her shoes. "He told me what I told you, he has other business to attend to. But he also said this, 'The Puppet will continue his dance, even if he must pull his own strings to do so.'" Her smile dropped altogether when she lifted her head up to meet his gaze, "so, Puppet, off to your next performance?"

Pocketing both his phone and coin, Akechi adjusted his tie, assiduous in keeping his appearance. "The Phantom Thieves won't end themselves, now will they?"

…..

**November 1st, 3:24 PM**

**Leblanc Café, Yongen-Jaya**

Flame burst to life beneath the brewer, Haru watching intently as she ran her mental checklist, checking and double checking that everything was perfect. She was going to serve up the absolute best cup of coffee she could. She was a Phantom Thief after all, if she couldn't even brew a cup of coffee while under a little stress, then what good would she be when the situation demanded her best?

"I'd like to help out if I can, would you like me to set out cups, or I could…measure out...coffee stuff...I could set out cups?"

"Sit," Haru said simply, shutting Makoto down. She watched the class president sink back into her booth seat, her hands twitching with the need to do something.

"Don't worry Haru," Futaba piped up, swinging her legs up into the booth and laying them out over Makoto's lap. "I'll hold her down," she chuckled, idly tapping away at her phone.

"Thanks Futaba,' Haru giggled, remembering to smile. "Careful though, Mako-chan seems like a biter to me."

"Well good luck trying, my body's eighty percent bone, twenty percent processed fat, you bite me and you'll choke on pocky stick dust." Frowning as she failed to get a reaction, Futaba lifted one leg, lightly tapping Makoto's nose with the toe of her boot. "Lighten up Prez, I don't think we're in trouble.

"Hey Haru, are you gonna do the thing I asked you about with the coffee?" Ann asked, seated opposite Makoto and Futaba, paging through part of Leblanc's extensive collection of magazines that Akira had been hoarding, this particular one on Chinese sweets.

"I'm gonna try," Haru told her, doing another check that she had everything prepped while the coffee brewed. "Mako-chan, everything alright? You're looking a bit restless."

"Sorry," Makoto sighed, rubbing her neck. "It's just that..well, I'm used to being the one to gather everyone together. I mean, sometimes Akira does it too...after consulting me. I'm just...wondering what's going on, I guess."

"You surprised all of us when you sent that text Haru," Ann agreed,. "Is everything alright?"

Haru shrugged, "yes and no. I'd rather not get into it until the guys get here. Have we heard anything from them yet?"

"Last update was from Yusuke," Futaba informed them, "he picked Ryuji up in Shibuya and they were heading our way, that was about twenty minutes ago."

"Which means we have anywhere from five minutes to two hours depending on if Yusuke had money for the train or not. I sent Morgana out to catch them when they come," Ann added.

"It's about Akira, I take it," Makoto intuited, derailing the conversation as she doggedly refused to be kept in the dark. "There are two people you left out of the group chat you sent, Akechi, and Akira. If it were about Akechi, it wouldn't make sense not to have our leader here, whereas in the reverse case, we wouldn't want Akechi hearing anything about Akira. I'm right, aren't I?" Haru sucked in a breath, her lips drawing into a taut line, hands curling and uncurling at her sides before busying herself with her coffee.

"Congratulations, you figured me out." Haru stuck her tongue out at the Phantom's second in command. "Mako-chan, if you can't relax and wait like everybody else, then I'm afraid I can't in good conscience introduce caffeine into you. So, miss P.I President, either calm down, or no coffee for you." Folding her arms proudly, Haru despaired to see the other girls shaking their heads at her. "No P.I Prez, huh?"

"It's not beating Yusuke's 'Queenpin' that he came up with after the Kaneshiro heist,' Ann told her.

"Definitely not topping Ryuji's 'Aikidork', that's still what she's listed as on my phone," Futaba flashed her phone screen to confirm this.

"For what it's worth, I'm still partial to 'Rider',' Makoto threw in, "aside from sounding cool, it's the only nickname that ISN'T, MAKING FUN OF ME!"

"Oh," Ann smiled, "I guess we won't tell you  _why_ Akira calls you that then." Makoto groaned, burying her face in her hands. "The best one's still gotta be Akira's 'Repressed School Girl' though."

Haru squeezed her eyes shut again, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Leaning over the counter, she watched through the coffee vapor as Makoto went ballistic, screaming into her hands while her legs kicked wildly into the underside of the table. "That doesn't seem nearly as clever as the others," she noted. Ann and Futaba were beside themselves with laughter, the former covering her face with her magazine while the latter was wiping away tears, her movements restricted as Makoto seized her legs in a death grip.

"It's really not," Futaba squeaked, struggling to control her breathing as the repressed schoolgirl leveraged her grip on Futaba's legs, pressing them down into the laughing girl's stomach. "If you kill me for it then the name will only become stronger!" Scowling hard, Makoto relented, hands twitching as she allowed Futaba to sit upright and explain. "It's the best one because Akira made it in...we'll call it  _homage_ to Makoto's naming scheme for the Metaverse shadows. He gave it to her while they were going through my Palace." Makoto's resolve snapped, clapping her hands over Futaba's mouth as her cheeks turned red.

"Where she came up with her best one," Ann continued, shrinking back in her seat to narrowly avoid an under the table kick from Makoto, "completely blowing Akira out of the water from when he'd done the naming. He came up with 'Leafy Old Man' for one of the shadows in Madarame's Palace, and Ryuji and I gave him no end of crap for that. Then Makoto comes in with 'Angry Bird God', which wasn't worth the nickname on its own, but then we realized that she wasn't joking."

Futaba managed to force Makoto's hands from around her mouth as the class president turned her attention fully to Ann. "Thus 'Repressed School Girl' came to be. So yeah, not that clever, because it's really just a big in-joke."

Leblanc's bell rang as the door swung open, crashing against the wall, causing the glass to rattle as three figures entered. "Finally found them," Morgana announced, trailing Yusuke behind him, with Ryuji dragging himself in after, looking a mess and with a strange object clutched in his hands.

"Oh thank god, Ryuji's here,' Makoto cried, relief flooding her as the teasing was brought to an abrupt end.

The three newcomers stopped in their tracks, all eyeing the class president warily. "How  _long_ was I gone?" Morgana asked.

"Too long," Makoto told him, hands extended as she pined for the cat, who leapt up into her lap for a scratch.

"I apologize for taking so long," Yusuke offered, sliding into the seat beside Ann, "Ryuji, it seems, is incredibly easy to distract."

"I believe it." "Makes sense." "Not surprising." "Was it ever in question?" Ryuji rolled his eyes at the girls' show of unanimity

"So uh, Ryuji,' Ann paused to give the blond boy a once over, "do we wanna hear what happened to your clothes? Or why you brought a knife?"

"Well Haru's text came while I was in the middle of a workout," Ryuji explained, tugging the neckline of his still damp yellow tank top to air it out. "Going to the gym's expensive, I couldn't just drop everything without getting a few reps in."

"I don't believe you're in any position to be talking about wasting money after what just happened."

"Ho~ly crap,' Ann tittered, "What'd you  _do_ that  _Yusuke's_ calling you out on money issues."

"Dammit man," Ryuji groaned, throwing a withering glare at Yusuke before he held up the jet black knife he'd walked in with. "I got flagged down by that old guy at the second hand shop. I still don't think it's my fault, that dude's an effin' wizard!"

"That'd be Yumenoshima, greatest hustler in Yongen-Jaya," Futaba informed them, "that man'll weasel every yen outta your pockets once he gets you in his sights."

Ryuji threw his hands up, " _now_ you say something! I started talking to him, he says something about being too old to move some stuff, forty seconds later I'm back to sweating 'cause I'd moved two TV sets, and put out ¥5000 for this thing, he said Akira collects 'em."

"Pfft." That broke Futaba again as she devolved into a fit of giggles. "How much money did ya have in your wallet?"

"I  _had_ ¥5500, I've barely got enough left to get home."

"Man's got a sixth sense for cash, I swear. For reference, he only charges Akira ¥1000." Grumbling, Ryuji swung one of the counter chairs to face everyone, and immediately Futaba's laughter stopped as she surged to her feet, jabbing a finger at him, causing him to freeze up as he hovered over the seat. "You are NOT sitting on those cushions, I'm not scrubbing Ryuji ass sweat!"

"What, you want me to sit on the floor!?"

"Yes!" Came the unanimous cry from the table. Sneering at each of them, he reclined against the counter, keeping his ass well away from any surfaces.

"Anyway," Yusuke continued, pulling out a pen to begin scribbling on a napkin, "I admit I definitely should've intervened, but I was curious to see just how deep Ryuji could dig hims-"

"You're both late," Haru's voice sent a chill through both boys' spines, causing their faces to flush with shame as they clamped their mouths shut. Ryuji felt a tap against his shoulder, he turned to meet Haru's gaze from behind the counter, with a look that read more disappointed than angry, she offered a steaming cup of coffee. Ryuji accepted it with only a moment's hesitation, not a big coffee man but also not wanting to further upset that angelic face.

"Thanks Har-" glancing down into the cup, he found something drawn foam. A message.

It read simply:  **You Stink**.

"Did you actually do it?" Ann asked, seeing the stunned look on Ryuji's face. The boy's head snapped up to see a bright smile shred through the mask of disappointment on Haru's face. That smile was all the confirmation needed as Ann stood up, holding her hand out, which Haru bounded out from behind the counter to meet in a joyous high five.

"I'm sorry Ryuji, Ann asked me to do it," Haru assured him, offering an apologetic smile.

"Really cutting deep here," he replied, glancing back down into his cup, "it take both of you to come up with this one?"

"Ryuji, there's no call for such rudeness!" Yusuke chastised him, with such passion that Ryuji almost thought the artist was in on it, until he remembered he was speaking to the man who tried to talk him into  _walking_ all the way to Yongen.

"Oh, but  _this_ was totally okay?" Ryuji demanded, gasping as he shook the cup enough that some of the coffee spilt onto his arm, burning his skin.

Haru lips drew tight as she fought against a laugh at Ryuji's little mewl of pain, quickly shuffling her way back behind the counter to continue pouring before she could break down, "I'll make you some hot cocoa instead Ryuji."

"I'll take his coffee!" Ann chimed from her corner seat, "wouldn't want it getting cold and going to waste." With one more scowl at the message in his drink, one that he decided was definitely all Haru, Ryuji eagerly passed off the cup. A few minutes later, Haru came around with coffee for Makoto, Yusuke, and herself, with hot cocoa for Ryuji, and iced cocoa for Futaba. As Futaba took her drink, she hopped out of her seat to make room for Haru, taking a seat hanging over the back of the booth behind the two upperclassmen.

"You really don't need to give up your seat for me Futaba," Haru told her, nonetheless scooting in front of Makoto to plop down in the newly vacated spot.

"It's for the best, when I have my iced cocoa, I get a bit jumpy."

"Iced cocoa, it's hot chocolate that you've taken the 'hot' out of, at that point aren't you just drinking chocolate milk?" Ryuji asked, sipping at his beverage.

"Well you're just a stinking sack of meat that's a bit of a dick," Morgana finally pitched in, stretching himself out in Makoto's lap," but we still call you Ryuji. So y'know, sometimes people just do things for appearance's sake."

"Ooooh, nice one Mona!" Futaba cheered, giving the cat a thumbs up.

"I thought we were done with ragging on me," Ryuji grumbled, glaring angrily between Futaba and Morgana.

"It never goes out of season, Ryuji," Makoto stated, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she took a sip of her coffee.

So with all the hating on Ryuji out of their systems, the group descended into a comfortable silence, all leisurely taking sips at their drinks.

"It's strange," Yusuke was the first to break the silence, "normally this is the time when we ask Akira to break down our objectives for the day. So Haru, what exactly did you need to discuss with us that required both Akechi and our leader be conspicuously absent?"

"Well, um…" Haru began quite timidly, her hands visibly quaking, preventing her from even touching her coffee. She felt Makoto's warm hand close over hers, giving a reassuring squeeze to calm her nerves a little. Nodding to her friend, she continued with renewed strength. "It's actually concerning Akira, he's-"

With all the tact at her disposal, Ann managed to keep the coffee in her mouth as she finally took a sip, shuddering at the taste, but it was enough to draw every set of eyes to her. "Oh! Uh…"

"S-Sorry Ann," Haru stammered, now casting nervous glances around to each of the cups at the table," I guess I've still got a lot to learn on brewing."

"No Haru!" Ann exclaimed, flush with embarrassment, "It's not that…"

"The roast is hardly the work of an amateur, Haru," Yusuke offered, sipping lightly at his coffee, "it's delightfully smooth, blended to perfection in fact, though its profile is somewhat bland."

"It's just not…" Makoto chimed in now, searching for the right words.

"It ain't Akira's," Ryuji stated bluntly, ignoring the angry stares the comment earned from around the table. "I mean, I ain't even a coffee guy, but I can tell that his stuff's just on a whole other level. I think we're just all used to that now." At this, everyone's expressions softened, then began to slowly nod in agreement.

Haru sat there a moment in silence, her trembling hands now balling into fists, eyes closed as she breathed deep, endeavoring to calm herself. Alarmed his mouth had betrayed him yet again, Ryuji fell to his knees in front of the Okumura heir. "Haru, I... I didn't mean it like tha-"

"What has Akira been doing at the Palaces!?" She demanded, surging to her feet in a rare showing of genuine anger. Seeing the blank stares she received in response, she huffed, settling back into her chair with a defeated sigh. "He just...spaces out for minutes at a time, you all seem to just be okay with it, what wasn't I told?"

"Well…" Morgana began, hopping from his perch in Makoto's lap up onto the table. "He never actually tells us what goes on, but he always comes out of those little trances with new personas, whatever happens, that's where he gains the bulk of his powers."

"And obtaining these new personas… I mean, negotiations with shadows are one thing, but this method of gaining them, is it all in his head? What does that  _do_ to him? Surely that can't be a pleasant experience. I mean, when Milady awakened in me, it was...exciting, and, invigorating, but before that it was just  _agony_ , there was a fire in my skull, like she was...branding me. And Akira just,  _does_ that, nearly every single time we enter the Metaverse? He can't be okay...right?"

One could hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence as each of the Phantoms exchanged guilty, wide-eyed looks. Haru observed their response with something akin to horror, had  _none_ of them considered that Akira was shouldering more than simply the mantle of leadership with his powers? Was this genuinely coming out of nowhere for all of them?

"I...he's never expressed having any problems with it, I'm not sure there's any cause for…" Makoto stopped herself as her voice cracked. Covering her mouth, she sucked in a breath, then continued in class president mode, "something must have brought this on, Haru, we can't just go on pure speculation. Akira's been nothing if not dependable, we can't go confronting him without something solid."

"Well," Haru tangled a hand in her curly hair, throwing back half her coffee to steel her nerves. "It was at Destineyland that I noticed something was wrong. It was so incredible being there with everyone, everything was finally turning up for me, and then, when I saw my father, I ran...and Akira came after me. I didn't even make it to the gates before I…" Her voice was barely coming out as a whisper now, but rather than say anything and upset her, everyone leaned a bit closer in their seats. "Before I broke down, and Akira was right there the second I stopped. He grabbed me by the shoulders, and he held me, and then he-"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Ryuji threw his hands up in a cross shape, "keep it PG Haru, we gotta kid in the room."

"Alright Meathead," Futaba growled, "I will knock out all your teeth and pour that hot cocoa straight down your windpipe!"

"Enough! Both of you!" Makoto thundered, "Haru's trying to speak."

Haru managed a small grin as she caught Ryuji's poorly smothered smile, his eyes squarely on her even as Makoto went off on him. Every once in a while the blond haired rebel could do something remarkable to remind her to smile.

" _Thank you_ ," she mouthed to him, before clearing her throat. "He smiled at me, and for the first time since I met him, he seemed...small, he was scared, he had  _no idea_ what was going on."

"It certainly wasn't like with the Shujin principal,' Yusuke bit his lip, his pen quivering ever so slightly, 'we'd been there in his Palace. For a while, it  _could've_ been us that did that."

"We were all scared," Ryuji reminded them.

Haru stared into her coffee, her voice back to a whisper, "exactly." She tipped back the rest of her cup, cheeks glowing. "We were all scared,  _including_ Akira. Things are bad now, people want us dead, and for our plan to work, we need Akira more than ever...but we still need to realize that he's not invincible. He doesn't want us to know that, he doesn't even want to acknowledge it himself it seems."

"Haru, I see what you mean but-"

"Makoto," Haru's barely restrained anger blazed in her eyes, "with all due respect, I think I'm something of an authority on people putting on brave faces." Another, far more subdued silence fell over them as each of the Phantoms mulled all this over. Haru rubbed her arm sullenly, not wanting that all to have come out quite so forcefully.

Morgana, sensing her discomfort, cleared his throat. "I'll take it from here Haru. I think I can shed a bit more light on all of this,' he declared, "after all, I spend nearly every minute of the day with him, if he's ever gonna drop his guard and have a moment of vulnerability, chances are good I'll be there."

" _And_?" Ann asked expectantly.

"He doesn't let his guard down."

"Real helpful, cat." Growling, Morgana prepared to pounce on the offending Ryuji, before a head scratch from Ann pacified him.

"I'm sensing a big 'but' here, Ryuji," Makoto stated flatly.

"'I'm sensing big butts' is  _definitely_ going under sentences I never thought I'd hear Makoto say," Futaba snickered. Seeing the look the class president sent her way, she grumbled, "yeah, yeah, I know, serious time."

Morgana turned his nose up, waiting a moment to make sure there were no more interruptions before continuing. "So yeah, he doesn't let his guard down, during the  _day_ ,  _BUT_ , he…" lowering his head, the cat sighed, "he talks in his sleep sometimes."

"Oh," Makoto coughed, blushing, "this is turning unexpectedly intimate, um...talks about what?"

"It's mostly nonsense, pieces of conversations, it's mainly names that I pick up on, Rangda, Iwai, Caroline, Arsene, Justi-"

"Arsene?" Yusuke's scribbling stopped, his eyes narrowing in confusion, "he speaks to his  _personas_?"

"Can he do that?" Ann asked, "I think the only time I've spoken to Carmen was...well, when she first awakened."

"That's just it, that  _should_ be the only time you can," Morgana explained, "the persona is part of you, it comes to you by accepting your rebel nature. Unless you lose sight of that, you and your persona should just be one in the same."

"His powers  _are_ very different from ours though," Haru pointed out, "can we assume that he follows the same-"

"They're DREAMS," Makoto slammed her fist into the table, "let's not go drawing conclusions based on Akira talking in his sleep of all things."

"Prez, doesn't matter if they're dreams or not, ya can't  _not_ believe that something's goin' on."

"She believes it Ryuji," Haru told him, meeting Makoto's angry glare head on, "she's just upset with herself for not noticing that something was wrong."

"I'm inclined to follow Makoto on this," Yusuke stated, "it doesn't feel like we have anything of substance, and without that, I don't think it's our place to interfere in Akira's life."

"Don't mean we can't pay him a little extra attention though," Ryuji offered, staring into the dregs of his cocoa, lost in thought.

Sitting up straight in her seat, Makoto cleared her throat, "we'll just have to keep our eyes peeled for anything that seems like Akira-" The doorbell rang again as two new figures strolled in. "-A-a-and that's, the goal for today, we all clear?"

"Awesome, ya got my message and even got everyone together already. You're the best Rider, are the troops ready to deploy?" Akira grinned, offering his second in command a mock salute. Makoto bit her lip, cursing herself for forgetting to check her phone at all. Glancing past Akira, she saw the Detective Prince trailing in behind him. Following her gaze, Akira jabbed a thumb in the detective's direction, "found him in a reed basket down by the river, poor dear, abandoned at the tender age of seventeen. I figure, we'll raise him as our own."

Akechi rolled his eyes, "are we prepared Niijima-san? The next train to Kasumigaseki is leaving in five minutes."

Knowing she couldn't speak her mind with the detective so close at hand, Makoto bared her teeth in an awkward grin, "yep, we're all ready."

"Oh, before we go anywhere," Akira rifled through his bag, walking over to present his old pistol to Futaba. The navigator's eyes lit up as she took hold of the weapon with unsteady hands. "I think it's past time that you were able to defend yourself. Yoink," breezing past the table, he grabbed Morgana by the scruff of the neck, quickly depositing the cat into his newly emptied bag before addressing the team. "Alright Phantoms, let's go steal a heart."

...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, hope the day finds you all well. I'm back, sorta, I dunno at this point. There's a lot I wanna talk about on this one but I'll try to keep it concise.
> 
> This chapter's a bit of a mess, but I had to post it because, to me it's a wonderful mess that I wouldn't want to fix. I'd finally gotten through most of the important documents I lost last month, and had started back to working on the chapters I'd lost, when I had a death in the family. The resulting chapter came from several long days cooped up for ten hours a day in a hospital waiting room with family, which involved a lot of crying, a lot of laughing, and a lot of reminiscing. So this whole chapter sprang from that need to be serious for those who were broken up over it, and to be happy in the face of tragedy.
> 
> On a brighter note, Safie. Including an OC was something that I was off and on about for quite a while, on one hand the idea doesn't appeal to me, I prefer to expand on source material rather than tack things onto it, while on the other I really enjoyed the character as I'd written her. As time went on, I came up with more and more ideas for her and realized that by including her, I could expand on Akechi's powers, since the game tries to just dismiss them as "yeah, I just sorta got them one day, maybe it was God, maybe it was a devil, but I got 'em." So through this I figured I could build up Akechi into a big part of the story.
> 
> There's been a bit of confusion on my end note for chapter 2 regarding the date chapters, basically, I wanna turn the story proper into something of a bare bones choose-your-own-adventure, four paths for the story focusing on Akira accompanied by each of the Phantom Thief girls as his leading ladies. The idea is that at the end of 'A New Palace', I'd put up a poll and ask the comments which of the girls they like my portrayal of the most, and I'd write their path first, I'm not sure how far the idea will go, but there you have it. On that note, because the rest of the date chapters are stuck in the ether, I'm going to be moving chapters 2 and 3 in the coming days into a separate story that'll be called "Joker's Leading Ladies".
> 
> Alright, with all that out of the way, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I can't promise anything of a release schedule moving forward because I know I won't be able to keep to it. That said, moving forward there's gonna be two chapters of the Phantom Thieves tearing their way through a re-imagined Niijima Casino, plenty of action, which I haven't really had any thus far, and just from what I have so far, I can't wait for you all to read it. As always, thank you all for taking the time to read through my beloved waste of time, and if you could take the time to leave your thoughts on it, I'd be absolutely delighted. Until next time, take care.


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